The Ties That Bind
by Pureauthor
Summary: In the aftermath of the bloody war, peace has been restored and the people occupy themselves with trying to rebuild their once proud nations. And on the plains, an assassin stumbles across a severely wounded knight...
1. Old Wounds

The Ties That Bind

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Author's Note:

Hello, all. I'm posting this Yggdra Union story in the Riviera section for several reasons, not the least of which is due to a lack of a section for Yggdra Union itself.

Before this story begins, I would like to clarify certain issues. There is an OC in this story, and yes, he will be involved in a romantic relationship (eventually, anyway) with one of the characters of the Yggdra Union canon.

People who know me should know that I'm not the biggest fan of OC x Canonical Character pairings, mainly for the reason that the OC usually ends up being some ridiculous, unbelievable twink.

That said, Elena _is_ my favourite character out of playable cast (and probably my favourite from the overall cast, but I haven't actually done a comparison yet), and, well, I'm a sap, basically. I wanted her to have a romance, and seeing as how the most popular Elena pairing involves a canonically dead person… yeah. (Not to mention I'm not much into same gender pairings, regardless.) People who know my writing style also know I'm a stickler for canon. I may not recall certain details while actually writing the story (and of course, the nature of games like YU makes it rather difficult to do a quick check-up to ensure I've got everything down pat), but if I at a later date, I recall that detail, I'll either retcon it or go back to edit (and usually leaving an author's note so regular readers will know what I did).

Therefore, I hope that the OC x Elena pairing I'm about to write is a believable enterprise. I understand the YU fandom is rather small on this site, so… I hope my story serves as a good, entertaining read.

Well, that was a rather long author's note, so thanks for reading thus far. Without much further ado, I present…

The Ties That Bind

Chapter 1: Old Wounds

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Disclaimer: I own nothing.

(Last note, I'm using the ending 'Trading Power for Wisdom' as the basis for this story, since Good Guys Always Win in videogames, and I have my doubts about Yggdra being a big enough idiot to attack an Archangel for the sake of a sword that has caused so much grief and suffering.)

* * *

Not a single cloud was to be seen in the brilliantly blue sky.

And frankly, that was just the way Elena liked it. Sure, as an assassin, she worked best under the cover of night, but she always felt cheery whenever the sun was bathing the land in its golden splendour.

As she wandered the fields, Elena constantly shifted her gaze from the great stretches of emerald grasslands to the shining orb that was the sun. She never looked directly at it of course – any bowfighter could ill afford even the least bit of damage to one's eyes, but she would close her eyes as she walked, smiling as she felt the warmth of the sun radiate onto her face.

And why should she not smile? The land was at peace now, after so much battle and meaningless bloodshed. Queen Yggdra, now the undisputed monarch of the greatest amount of land ever held by a single person since the founding days of Fantasinia, was ruling the land with both wisdom and compassion. The soldiers that had fought the long and bloody war were now tasked with overseeing the lands and driving off the occasional bandit raid (and Sir Milanor was proving a great boon in this regard, since he and his band were well versed in the tactics bandits used in mountainous terrain.) Yes, there was no reason not to smile.

Shifting her point of view back down to a more horizontal level, her smile widened as she spotted her destination – the borders of the Manthre Forests. A day off to visit this quiet and relatively deserted spot had sounded a good idea then, and it seemed equally good now.

Finding a sturdy tree at the forest edge, she settled down, her back facing the inner reaches of the forest as she stared out at the oceans of grass before her. She took special care not to sit on her customized crossbow clipped to her belt – one could never be too careful, after all, and finally she closed her eyes again, letting out a long sigh of satisfaction.

Reaching into her pack, she pulled out a shiny red apple, and without preamble, she bit into the crunchy fruit, giggling a bit as she felt the sweet juices run down her chin.

Wiping those juices off, she continued polishing off her snack, feeling free to let her mind wander off to various topics. A life spent in training for assassination had left her with relatively little social skills, and it was a 'chicken or egg' question as to whether or not it had resulted in a natural shyness when interacting with people she was not intimately familiar with. The one person she had felt any measure of comfort in talking to (and more often than not it had been met with a stern admonition to focus on their current task at hand) was dead – slain by an arrow fired from Elena's own crossbow.

The sudden wave of memory and emotion that washed up – yet again – caused Elena to close her eyes, trying to let the memories fade way back into obscurity.

This was supposed to be a _pleasant_ excursion, after all. A chance for her to relax, unwind, and to forget about the stresses and tensions of rebuilding a shattered land.

A chance for her to forget the nightmares.

A sudden crashing sound in the undergrowth snapped her from her train of thought, causing her to whirl around, loading and bringing her crossbow to a firing position in one smooth motion. Cautiously, she took several steps backwards.

A dark shape was seen thrashing about in the forests, but Elena wasn't about to kill it until she could ascertain that it was indeed a threat. An assassin was not made an assassin merely by being able kill, but by knowing how and when to do so. Her eyes narrowed – she could almost swore that it looked like…

A wounded knight stumbled out of the forest, his armour cracked, several plates all but shattered. Despite this, the imperial crest of Bronquia could be seen on the chestplate of the knight.

Elena grit her teeth. The knight was obviously in bad shape, but rushing to his aid would only put her in a vulnerable position. "Friend or foe?" She demanded.

The knight raised his head, revealing a jagged cut across his forehead and wild, bloodshot eyes. He staggered a half-step forward, causing Elena to back up instinctively.

The violet-haired girl frowned. The knight was a complete mess, true, but there was something about him that seemed familiar…

The man's eyes focused on her and suddenly they blazed into extreme hatred. "You!" He screamed hoarsely. Apparently _he_ had no trouble identifying her. "I'll…" He fell to one knee, panting heavily. "You… I'll…" The sudden outburst seemed to have knocked all the fight out of him. He slumped forward, landing heavily on the grassy earth.

After several long seconds, during which Elena ascertained that the knight _wasn't_ going to leap up at her with an intent to assault, she risked several hesitant steps forward to place her hand on the soldier's neck.

His pulse was weak but regular, which gave her hope that he wasn't going to kick it just yet. It did, however, raise the obvious problem of how she was supposed to bring this unconscious and rather heavily wounded man back to civilization, and the healers.

With a frown on her face, Elena turned away from the unconscious form. The nearest town would be about fifteen minutes away if she ran, and back would take about twice as long, since she'd likely be bringing others along with her. So… forty-five minutes of leaving this person languishing alone in the field… it hardly seemed a desirable proposition, but what choice did she have? It wasn't as if she had the strength to carry the knight all the way to town, and dragging him the entire way would do _wonders_ for his physical state, she was sure.

Breathing out a sigh, Elena turned, setting off at a steady jog for the nearby village.

* * *

"So… will he be alright?" Elena inquired cautiously from her position in the doorway. The healer merely gave a curt nod before returning to her work.

It had been two days since she'd found the unconscious soldier, and he'd ended up being brought to the Castle, mainly due to the wounds being of a rather severe variety – Elena had mentally decided that the best care he'd receive would be by a member of the Court. Sure, the cart ride she'd hitched a ride along with him had been rather bumpy, but Elena knew enough to keep the wounded man from suffering very much… relatively speaking, anyway.

"Ah, Elena." Elena turned, and instinctively bowed as she saw Queen Yggdra rounding the corner. "How fares the soldier you found?"

"Well, the healer says he'll be alright." Elena ventured. "Although… he shows no sign of awakening." _And he looks maddeningly familiar for some reason…_ Elena left that last part unspoken as she returned to gazing at the silent form.

"I wonder what a Bronquian soldier's doing all the way out here…" Yggdra murmured in a low voice. "The remnants of the army have been assigned to overseeing their own lands."

Elena nodded sympathetically, stepping aside to let Yggdra enter the room ahead of her.

It had been just over two weeks since the entire Royal Army had returned from their hellish campaign against Bronquia – a campaign that had ended with them at the very gates of Heaven. The celebrations had had ample time to die down, and now they were faced with the extremely daunting task of rebuilding the shattered lands. As Queen, Yggdra had borne her responsibilities splendidly, at least in Elena's inexpert opinion.

Now, as they both stood over the still form, Elena was once again struggling with feelings on inadequacy – feelings she'd been fighting for what seemed to be her entire life. Assassins weren't much use in times of peace, aside from the occasional patrol in an effort to root out brigands and bandits – and there were already others far more suited to such tasks.

She shook her head, not wanting Queen Yggdra to notice she had been caught up in her own thoughts. The Queen was currently conferring softly with the healer, who had been in the act of redressing the knight's wounds.

It was thus that Elena was the first to notice when the young knight stirred.

"H- hey! He's waking up!"

"Unh…" He shook his head, emitting a low moan. Propping himself up on one elbow, his bleary gaze quickly scanned the room. "Where?" He mumbled thickly.

"You're in the Royal Castle of Paltina. I'm Queen Yggdra." She bent over slightly, enough that she could look him in the eye. "What your name? Can you tell me what happened to you?"

The soldier's eyes narrowed, and instinctively he shifted away. Yggdra frowned. "Look, we don't mean you any harm. We nursed you back to health. I just want to know-"

Elena's eyes widened and she took a half step back, one hand rising to cover her mouth. She _knew_. She remembered who he was…

"Y- you…" She stammered, earning the attention of everyone in the room. "You're…!"

* * *

The roiling green slopes of the Verlaine Hills were a majestic sight indeed.

Or, more accurately, had been a majestic sight. Now, the entire countryside was pockmarked with gaping craters, stark patches and swathes of dead land – a side effect of the devastating power of the ankhs two sides had once used in a petty war against the other.

As sole remaining lord of the entire Verlaine Hills, Roswell would have been swamped in a seemingly endless amount of paperwork and generally mundane and awfully _boring_ stuff. Luckily, back in happier, less hectic days, he'd already delegated sufficient authority to his subordinates so that now only the most pressing and urgent of matters even found its way to his hands.

Of course, that was pretty much necessary practice for any noble who would be a magician. Their natural thirst for knowledge of all things arcane and mystical consumed a large portion of their lives, and having a large amount of free time on one's hand was tantamount. This was of course different from the soldierly mages, who studied spells mastered a long time ago for the sake of causing mayhem and carnage on the field of battle. Not that Roswell didn't appreciate the need for such men – some of his most trusted servitors were just that kind of mage, after all – but he was simply happiest when he was researching or studying new insights on the matters of magic.

Now, though…

He sat, poring over an immensely thick tome bound in thick maroon leather. All around him, books of varying sizes and colours were stacked up in seemingly haphazard piles – some bore evidence of having been carelessly tossed aside when Roswell had finished – however temporarily – reading through the contents.

Directly in front of him, suspended in a glass globe, were four shards of metal, each no bigger than the size of his thumb. As he worked silently, they glowed, showering the darkened room with phantasmagorical lights. Roswell paid those shards scant attention.

After the destruction of the Twin Ankhs by Kylier's sacrifice and the subsequent conclusion of the Battle of the Arc, Roswell had spent precious time scrounging around the blasted wasteland for any scraps of the ankh that still held magical power. These four had been all he could find, and as far as he could tell, they were the key to his current scheme succeeding…

He gestured absent-mindedly, and the goblet of wine he had set down earlier on the nearby table floated up and into his outstretched arm. Taking a long and thirsty swallow, he waved his fingers again, sending the goblet back to the table it had been resting on.

The door behind him creaked open. "Master Roswell?"

Roswell glanced up behind him. Two of his servants were in doorway. "Yes?" He inquired.

"We've brought the tomes you requested. The servants stepped aside, and Roswell could see several men staggering under the weight of a seemingly countless number of books. "They were all we could find from the White Rose Manor."

Roswell nodded his appreciation. "You've done well. Leave them by the doorway."

After complying, his servants bowed once more and headed out.

Roswell shook his head with slight bemusement, remembering how as children, he and Rosary had constantly refused to share anything with the other. And now, he had essentially the entire library of the White Rose – the source of all of Rosary's own formidable powers – at his fingertips.

"She's going to _kill_ me when she comes back, that much I know." Roswell muttered to himself as he continued his work. There was still much that needed to be done.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review. 


	2. A Land at Peace

The Ties That Bind

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Author's Note(s): Thanks to all those that reviewed the first chapter.

For those of you wondering, the toughest part about my OC was finding a name for him. I'm _still_ not sure the one I finally settled on fits, but that's really a discussion for another time.

Chapter 2: A Land at Peace

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Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Azel!" Elena blurted out. "Crimson Rider Azel!"

Yggdra frowned. "Azel? I don't think I've heard that name before…"

"He…" Elena shook her head. "You were my brother's… you were the Black Knight's second-in-command. His lieutenant…"

_What would he be doing here?_

"Correct." Azel replied with a fair amount of venom as he sat up from the bed he had been placed on. "And _you_, of course, are Elena, the traitorous assassin."

At his words, Elena felt her face grow hot, and she glanced away from him. Even after having been called that so many times by so many people throughout the war, she still couldn't look any one who called her that in the eye. She supposed she _should_ have grown thicker skin by now, but in the end, every accusatory glare was justified, and the weight of it caused her to lower her head.

Swallowing nervously, she was about to stammer out a reply when she heard Yggdra's calm voice.

"Many terrible things were done on both sides of the war." She said. "To assign blame and punishment for each act of malice and rage would simply lead to the cycle of hatred turning over again." At this, Elena looked up to see the Queen, a gentle smile on her face. "Sir… Azel, was it?"

The knight merely nodded.

"I have to ask that you remain here until our physicians and healers pronounce you healthy enough to leave. Beyond that…" Yggdra nodded once. "You may do as you please, whether you would stay here to remain under our care or to return to Bronquia." Having said this, Yggdra stepped back, and turned towards the doorway.

"Wait a moment, Lady Yggdra." Azel called after her.

"Um… it's Queen Yggdra, actually." Elena ventured softly. She knew this was silly, but she'd long gotten into the habit of addressing people by their correct titles… Sir Milanor notwithstanding.

Azel's grey eyes never shifted in her direction. "I wasn't talking to you." He said shortly. Elena winced and subconsciously took another step back.

Turning back, Yggdra frowned at Azel. "Sir Azel, if you wish to talk to me, I must request that you treat my subjects with a bit more civility."

Azel breathed out a sigh. "I take it from the way you talk, and your treatment of me – the war is over, isn't it?"

Yggdra's eyes widened in surprise. "Sir Azel… it's been over for nearly two weeks. Where were you that you never received this news?"

Azel's smiles held no trace of levity within it. "After Sir Leon was slain, I ended up being reassigned rather often. I believe my last battle was at the gates of Flarewerk. The destruction of the Twin Ankhs left me incapacitated for… a rather lengthy period of time."

"Enough of this talk." The healer said abruptly. "This man needs to rest."

Yggdra sighed, nodded, and started to head out of the room, signaling for Elena to follow after her, which she did, pausing only to take one last glance back at him.

* * *

Clad in matching navy tunic and pants, her signature maroon scarf draped around her neck, Elena stood on the battlements of Castle Paltina, overlooking the rather colourful procession far below her. The mass of humanity that daily flowed in and out of the castle and surrounding city never seemed to stop, even into the latest hours of the night. Simply put, Elena didn't feel comfortable around a large mass of people, and frankly, that had been the most galling thing about the time spent in Queen Yggdra's army. Under Master Zilva's Special Forces, she had operated as part of covert group that understood each other's capabilities well, and how to make use of it. A circle of close friends was really all she felt truly at ease with.

As she stood staring at the battlements, thoughts shifted once more to Azel. Prior to her defection, he had been a swiftly rising star in Bronquia's army; and rumours had flown that he would have become the sixth Dragon General before the year was out. Being one whose occupation was largely devoted to the act of sneaking around, Elena had managed to keep one ear to the ground, soaking up all those rumours. She'd even heard discussions that when Azel would be raised to Dragon General, his title would be the Crimson Rider, owing largely to his flame-coloured hair and his traditional red armour (which, for some reason, he had not been wearing when she had met him at Manthre woods). And of course, there had been the jokes about the connections between 'Scarlet' Princess Emilia and 'Crimson' Rider Azel… She had seen the short blood-red hair on his head, but somehow she hadn't made the connection until recently.

And of course, he had been her broth… he had been Leon's must trusted knight, his second-in-command. She supposed he must have been there at Bardock Stronghold, where she had killed… where the Black Knight had fallen in battle. Briefly she allowed herself to wonder if he'd been the one to rally the survivors of Leon's Black Cavalry, and get them out of there.

The soft thud of boot on stone caused her to glance backwards, her violet eyes widened in surprise as she saw Azel step out into the stone path. His eyes narrowed, and he almost seemed to want to turn back, but after a moment's hesitation he continued his slow walk forward.

"S – sir Azel…" Elena stammered. "Should you not be resting?"

He paused slightly, as if debating whether to reply. "The healers thought it prudent for me to get some fresh air." At this, he continued walking until he was a fair pace away from her, before sitting himself down by the ramparts and closing his eyes.

Elena continued watching him nervously, wondering if she should walk over and attempt to initiate a conversation with him. Finally, she decided that her poor conversational ability coupled with his apparent hostility towards her would hinder efforts at a relationship more than help it, and with a sigh, she turned away.

* * *

"Sir Milanor's group has returned!"

Yggdra glanced up from the veritable mountain of paperwork spread out across her ornately (and in her opinion, garishly) decorated desk, a smile breaking out across her face. "Send him in."

In seconds, the door's to her study were opened, and the familiar figure of the Silver Wolf strode in, his weapon resting comfortably on his shoulder.

"How was the raid?" She inquired hopefully. In recent times, Milanor had been leading his band up against known bandit hideouts, seeking to root them out, and if p

"Got 'em all." Milanor's grin widened, and he carefully leaned his weapon down by a wall. "The leader didn't put up much of a fight; after that, the group scattered." He snorted with amusement. "Even got a couple requests to join my gang! I don't think they'll be making any more trouble for a while."

Yggdra nodded her thanks, dipping her head back to read the latest form – something about requisitions for skilled craftsmen to rebuild destroyed villages south of the border…

"So where're the rest of your men?" Yggdra inquired as she continued scanning the form, trying to pick out any important details.

"Back in their quarters." Milanor chuckled. "They don't feel comfortable dealing with all the high-class folk."

"And I'm sure the 'high-class folk' don't feel very comfortable with them." Yggdra replied with a smile. "I hope they like living in the castle though."

"Oh, sure." Milanor leaned against the wall, pulling off the gloves from his hands. "'Slong as no one gets on their goat about acting uppity and all. They're not used to such riches, that's for sure."

"Mm…" Yggdra glanced up. "You say you got a request from those gangs to join you? What happened?"

"Ah, they just came up to me, spoke some rubbish about me being the 'great' Silver Wolf and all, and asked if they could be part of my gang. 'Course, I'd never say no to a bunch of honest, sincere faces like that!" After a moment's pause, Milanor sighed, the expression on his face growing more serious. "After a while, it gets real easy to tell which ones are bandits because they _like_ causing a ruckus, and which ones joined the gangs because honest work just wasn't putting food on the tables for them and their families."

Yggdra's pleasant expression vanished. "It's like the war all over again… Many fight because they've no other choice… and we kill them because we've no other choice." She closed her eyes. "When I let Gran Centurio be sealed in Ancardia… I truly thought…" She shook her head. "I thought we could just… just make everyone stop fighting. Renounce all wars, forever."

She raised her gaze to the thick stacks of paper all about her desk. "And look now. We haven't been able to release a single soldier from active duty – all we've done is split them up into smaller core groups so they can more efficiently patrol the lands. Bandit raids are increasing all over the continent; there's practically no infrastructure with which to increase communications… Bronquia is a complete and utter mess – and just the other day we had reports that the Bronquian Knights are overstretched, so we're going to have to send some more troops up there." She blew out a long sigh. "The war's over, but the whole world is still a wreck."

"…" Milanor remained silent. "Yggdra… I believe in you. We all believe in you. You haven't forgotten, have you? You promised Kylier you'd make a new world, one without pain and suffering. And we're all going to help you out." Walking over to where Yggdra had left the Scepter of Wisdom leaning by the wall, he hefted it up, feeling the weight of the instrument. "You see this? Even God's on your side."

Yggdra managed a smile. "Thanks Milanor. It's going to be a long, tough road… but we'll get there one day. I'm sure of it."

"Attagirl." Milanor grinned. "By the way, how's Durant doing?"

"Oh, he set out just the other day. We haven't received word from him yet."

* * *

Halfway across the continent, the young commander of 3rd Royal Cavalry dismounted his snorting warhorse.

"Check for any survivors." He said softly. "And tend to our wounded."

"Yes, sir!"

The knight gazed around the stricken field – bodies were strewn carelessly about in every which direction. Far too many of them wore the simple, rustic clothes of villagers and farmers – mute testimony to the fact that they had arrived too late.

"Sir, we've found a family in the northern portion of the town! It seems they hid out and managed to survive the bandit onslaught unnoticed."

Durant nodded. "I suppose we should be grateful. Any brigands still remaining?"

"No, sir. Those who haven't been slain have fled by now."

"Sir," another knight approached him. "We've managed a body count. Of our side, three have fallen. We count sixteen dead bandits, and… twenty seven dead villagers."

Durant sighed and shook his head. "We'll bring the fallen knights back with us. As for the villagers… We'll bury them here. And let's pray no one comes to desecrate their graves."

Half an hour later, the deed was all but finished. With a heavy heart, Durant clambered atop his mount again.

"Sir Durant?"

"Yes?"

"…Do we pursue the bandits?"

Durant shook his head. "We can't. The bandits know the mountains too well. I won't lead us straight into an ambush of some sort or the other." Gripping his lance tightly, he turned to two of his trusted knights. "The family we found… bring them to the village of Naras. It's relatively near, and there's a garrison nearby. They should be safe there. Afterwards, head for the Castle."

After saluting, the two knights departed. Durant watched them move farther away before raising his hand and nudging his horse into position.

"We return to Castle Paltina." He called to his units. "Move out!"

* * *

Milanor swung open the wooden doors that led to what had been affectionately termed as 'the wreck room'. No one had been able to figure out whether the 'wreck' in the title was a clever play on the abbreviation of the word 'recreational', or whether it was because just about everything in the room was a wreck, and frankly, no one much cared.

To the group that spent their time here, even such broken down furniture was more luxury than they would ever have imagined possible.

The Silver Wolf flashed a confident grin as he strolled into the room, greeted by the yells and cheers of his gang.

"Boss!"

"The boss is back!"

"How'd it go, boss?"

"Can we come along next time? It's _boring_ doin' nothing all day!"

"Shut yer yaps!" Milanor's smile never wavered as he collapsed onto a plush silk couch that the castle attendants had thrown out because some of the upholstery was torn. "And it went fine! Hey, Flunky, did they give you trouble?"

Flunky, as he was known, had been found half-dead somewhere in the Norn Valley, and when nursed to health (Milanor's opinion had always been that Flunky had survived _in spite_ of their care, not because of it), he had apparently lost much of his memory. The gang had taken to calling him Flunky because of his newcomer rank, and it had stuck despite his battle skill allowing a meteoric rise in reputation amongst the Silver Wolf's gang. Shortly prior to them having met Yggdra for the first time, Milanor had officially denoted Flunky his second in command, and the guy with the grey wolf's skull had fought bravely for the Royal Army for the duration of the war. (Even though it was still acknowledged that compared to most, Flunky _was_ a little slower in catching on. But then again, so were most bandits.)

"No problem at all, boss." Flunky grinned. "Taking care of this bunch's easy as anything we ever did."

"Good to hear." Milanor shrugged. "Wouldn't want us getting kicked out of the castle now, would we?"

"But boss, don't we… you know, _own_ it?"

"Sure, keep telling yourselves that." Milanor snagged a bread crust that had apparently been lying unattended and swiftly polished it off. "Yggdra's been kind enough to let us stay in the castle, but don't push it. If any complaints about rowdy behaviour find its way to me, you can bet your bones I'm taking it _all_ out on you guys."

"N- no fair, boss! It's _boring_ this way!"

Milanor shrugged. "Never said you lot couldn't act like barbarians. Just don't do it on castle grounds is all. That shouldn't be much problem."

"Right! So when's our next raid, boss? Someplace big?"

Milanor was silent for a long moment. Then a devil-may-care smirk blossomed on his face and he leaned forward. "Right, gather round, you lot! If you wanna know we're heading next…"

* * *

Elena knocked hesitantly on the door of the healing chambers. A second later, it was opened by a physician with a kindly expression on his face.

"I've been told to deliver this to package to the healers." She spoke in a low tone, aware that many of the people inside would have been resting.

"My thanks, lass." The physician nodded, Elena saluted, and then the door was closed. Elena turned around and promptly collided with Azel. Both of them staggered backwards, but managed to remain on their feet.

"Sorry – I'm sorry!" Elena blurted out.

"…" The Crimson Rider shook his head. "I appear to be running into you rather often lately."

"…Sir Azel…" She caught the frown that passed briefly across his face.

"Please do not call me that. I've no desire to be addressed in a respectful manner by a traitor."

"…!" Elena shook her head, burdened by the weight of her actions. "I… you were Leon's second… you _know_ what he was like! You saw how he treated any prisoners he captured; how he terrorized those under his command!"

"…Generals are made Generals for their strength in battle, not for their personality. This is especially so in Bronquia." Azel's steely grey eyes bore down on her. "And if we're going to talk of despicable, unforgiveable acts, what about your killing of your own brother?"

Elena simply gazed miserably at him. She had been _right_ in slaying Leon – she simply couldn't have allowed him to continue his reign of terror – but there wasn't a single night that the guilt didn't weigh on her.

After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, Azel shook his head and walked past her. "When I saw you back at Manthre Woods… I had every intention of killing you. Of course, that didn't happen. I was wounded, and you helped me bring me here to be nursed back to health. I am in your debt – and Lady Yggdra's, as well. I have no intention of betraying that debt, and as such, I will not raise my hand against you or anyone under Lady Yggdra." He paused, fists clenched, obviously trying to rein in his emotion. "But pray do not delude yourself. I hate you, traitor. And it will be a long time in coming before I am reconciled to you, if ever."

Briefly, he looked as if he wanted to say something else, but then he shook his head and vanished into the healing chambers.

Meanwhile, a very confused and depressed assassin stood there, staring silently at the doorway through which Azel had passed through.

* * *

The spell matrix glowed green, red, and blue hues. The four ankh pieces whirled about, their magic powers surging and coalescing, forming immensely complicated, arcane runes that flickered and twinkled for their brief existence before vanishing once again into whatever nether it was birthed from.

Roswell cupped his chin, musing thoughtfully as he studied the matrix. It was still incomplete, of course, but hopefully the package he had requested for arrived soon-

A soft knock on the door to his study, and a servant stepped in. "Master Roswell?"

"What now?"

"The package you requested for from Castle Paltina has been delivered." The servant bowed, offering a tiny box.

After thanking and dismissing the servant, Roswell hurriedly opened the box, holding the fifth and last ankh piece in his hand.

"How fitting," he mused, turning over the artifact in his palm. "To be shaped like a crucifix."

At his mental command, the fifth ankh piece rose to join the other four fragments, causing the brightness of the spell matrix to intensify.

Roswell allowed himself a confident smile as he raised a hand, moving the fifth piece into precisely the correct position needed to influence to spellwork. Just a bit more and-

Abruptly, the energy levels of the matrix spiked dangerously, threatening to overload the spell. Roswell's eyes widened, and instantly he waved his hand, siphoning away the excess energy as best he could while simultaneously shifting the ankh fragments away from each other.

The spell wavered slightly, then collapsed upon itself.

The danger averted, Roswell sighed tiredly. He had obviously messed up somewhere; the process of arranging magical artifacts such that their inherent energies fed and built upon each other was an extremely complicated and tricky one, but any sorcerer of _his_ stature should have been able to manipulate the artifacts without causing such risk to him or herself.

"Master Roswell?"

He turned again. The same servant as before was now standing behind him, a worried look on his face.

"What is it?"

"Master Roswell, I – we're getting worried, sire. You've not had a good night's rest in nearly week, and most of the meals with bring you are virtually untouched when we remove them again."

Roswell was silently, considering his subject's words carefully. It _was_ true that he'd been feeling rather fatigued these past few days…

"I suppose you're right." Roswell said with a sigh. "Tell the maids to prepare my bedchamber. I'll be there once I tidy up a bit here."

The servant bowed and left, leaving Roswell to his own reflections, leaving Roswell to his ponderings. While it _was_ true that passion for his newest project had eclipsed much of his normal life, it wasn't the sole reason he had neglected proper sleep.

"Another bout with the nightmares it'll be, then…" He murmured to himself as he gathered up his various writing utensils.

Guilt could do that to a person, he supposed.

* * *

Just to clarify: Azel's name is supposed to pronounced Ay- zel, not Ah-zel or Ai -zel or anything like that, okay?

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	3. Nightmares

The Ties That Bind

* * *

No reviews at all for last chapter? _Hm_.

Chapter 3: Nightmares

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Elena kept her body low, trying to make herself blend in further with the thick foliage around them. Her squad followed, silent. Behind them, Milanor and a small band of his followers brought up the rear, ensuring that none of Bronquia's troops had managed to follow them up.

The path was largely deserted – and for a good reason. Elena grit her teeth as she remembered that Lady Yggdra was still at the front lines of Fort Ishand, facing off against General Baldus in combat. She had to hurry…

Increasing her pace (and silently signaling her squad to do the same), Elena hurried along the dirt path, reaching up to brush a low-hanging branch out of her way.

And started with shock as she found herself staring into the equally surprised visage of her former teacher.

"M-master Zilva!" She blurted out.

Her fellow Assassin's eyes widened, then narrowed. With a growl, she lashed out, the clawed gauntlet that was the signature of all assassins aimed at Elena's jaw.

Elena tucked herself into a backwards roll, grabbing at the crossbow at her side even as she pulled herself back up into a crouching position. Bringing it up, she quickly scanned the surroundings.

Nothing.

"She must've been trying to circle around and surround Yggdra' forces!" Milanor bellowed as he charged up, his signature scythe-like weapon at the ready. "We've got to stop her before she gets to the fortress and warns everyone about us!"

Elena shook her head as she saw the Silver Wolf rampage through the forested undergrowth. He was fast, but Master Zilva knew the terrain better then he. There was no way he could catch her…

Swallowing hard, Elena spotted a nearby tree and jumped up onto a low, overhanging branch. In a few seconds, she had shimmied to the top of the trees, giving her a clearer view of the situation. Most of the Shadows that had comprised Master Zilva's squad had broken up and were now taking cover among the foliage, sniping at Milanor as he charged through the brush, trying to delay him.

But Master Zilva… there! There she was! The assassin was running at a half-crouch, trying to create a smaller target. Elena shook her head once to clear her thoughts, raised her crossbow, took careful aim, and fired.

The sharpened bolt zipped through the air, impacting solidly with the silver-haired assassin's back as she attempted to flee. Elena winced – she could've sworn she had heard the sound of Master Zilva's heart being pierced open-

Her eyes widened. Master Zilva hadn't collapsed. She was… she was still standing. And now she was staring straight at her. Straight at Elena.

"You've become extremely efficient in killing, Elena." Despite the immense distance in between the both of them, Elena could hear her teacher's voice as clearly as if she were speaking directly in the violet-haired girl's ear. "Why, you've even no qualms at all about killing the one who thought you everything you know."

"No! No!" Elena protested frantically. "It – it's not like that at all, Master Zilva! I had to do it! I had to-"

_Zip – Thock!_

Elena broke off as she felt a surge of pain suddenly explode in her chest. Looking down, she stared with mounting horror at the feathered shafted that protruded from her punctured breastplate.

She stumbled back, falling from the tree and impacting hard with the forest floor. As she lay there, Master Zilva suddenly appeared before her eyes, staring down at her with undisguised hatred.

"This… is the punishment for traitors."

"No…" Elena pleaded. "No… I didn't… I didn't want to…"

Another arrow, this time in her right knee. Elena howled with agony as her teacher calmly reloaded her crossbow again and again, firing her shots into precise locations into the young assassin's body. Elena's cries for mercy were just as often broken off by her ragged screams of anguish. Her body twitched and jerked, vital muscles severed that prevented her from struggling of fleeing.

Finally, Zilva aimed her crossbow directly in between Elena's eyes. "Farewell." The silver-haired assassin said softly.

And then Elena woke up.

A sharp intake of breath, and a wild spasm that nearly caused her to take a tumble off the side of the cot that she had been sleeping on, but her trained reflexes allowed her to still her body before anything untoward happened.

Elena leaned back in her bed, feeling the coolness of the night breeze, the chill of dried of tears on her cheeks. After a moment, she realized she was still clutching onto a dagger she had tucked into her sash for protection. With a tired sigh, she released her hand, letting it slump limply by her side.

Another night, another nightmare. Elena sat up, willing herself not to cry.

Why? The war was over? Everyone was trying to forget the pain and suffering and sorrow. So why couldn't she shake off her own demons?

After several long moments, Elena closed her eyes wearily and slumped back onto her bed, trying to catch a bit more rest.

* * *

"You're taking too long."

Roswell didn't look back – he knew exactly what Rosary was doing; the exact posture, the way she folded her arms across her chest, her ruby eyes narrowed into a striking glare…

"I'm working on it." He replied shortly. "As a fellow student of magic you should know how difficult it is to create a breakthrough on something as unprecedented as this."

He heard her laugh, a bitter, condescending, angry laugh. "Dear Roswell," she began, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "How can I possibly know anything? I'm _dead_."

"And yet you've no trouble standing here, talking to me." Roswell murmured as he continued flipping through the tome he was reading.

Suddenly he felt Rosary's hands digging deep into his shoulders, her sharpened fingernails like spiked claws. "Don't forget _why_ I died, while you yet live!" She snapped. "Mere chance! A flip of the coin that caused Yggdra and her army to storm _my_ manor while you remained cloistered in your own!"

"I know, curse you!" Roswell growled, finally standing and whirling to face her. "I _know_! And that's why I'm trying to-" He broke off, staring with horror at the sight before him.

Rosary stood in front of him, innumerable wounds and gashes all along her body. Her right arm had been stripped off nearly all its flesh, there was a deep gash along the side of her belly, allowing what appeared to be an intestine to flop out limply, and her chest area seemed almost to have been _carved_ out, letting Roswell get a far better look at her heart and ribcage than he had ever desired.

She glared mockingly at him with her one remaining eye – the other had been slit open. "This is what happened to me, Master Roswell Branthese, Lord of the Black Rose. This is what, save by lucky chance, would have happened to you."

Shaken, he took a half step backwards.

"Now do you see?" She spoke softly. "Now do you see what I demand of you is my _right_? Your _**penance**_?"

Roswell closed his eyes and nodded. "Y-yes. I see."

"Good."

And with that, the dream ended, and Roswell awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside his window, the golden rays of the sun pouring in through the panes, and the smell of the breakfast lain at his bedside by his maids.

* * *

"Yo, boss!"

"Flunky?" Milanor managed a smirk as he caught sight of the dark-haired thief. "What's up?"

"Nothing much boss. Just wanna let you know that preparements are well underway!"

"It's 'preparations', ya lunkhead." Milanor shook his head. "Anyway, good work. Tell the boys to -" Milanor broke off to stifle a yawn. "To keep it up." He finished.

Flunky frowned. "You okay, boss? Ain't often we see you so out of it."

"I'll be fine." Milanor mumbled. "Just… bad dreams."

"Oh, is that all?" Flunky broke into a grin. "You're too big to be getting scared by nightmares, boss."

"Sure, let's go with that." Milanor shrugged. With a sigh, he swung his legs forward and pulled himself into a standing position. "Elsewhile, I'm coming up to check on you louts. Can't be trusted to keep yerselves out of trouble…" The Silver Wolf grumbled good-naturedly as he tramped off the corridor.

* * *

"Master Azel?"

The flame-haired man shifted his gaze from the scroll he had been reading to the medic who had approached him.

"Yes?"

"You have a… visitor."

Something about the healer's tone of voice told him all he needed to know about this so-called 'visitor'.

"Before I allow her in, let me ask you a question." He said softly.

"Yes?"

"What is Elena's purpose for coming to see me?" _She's not a fool. She knows full well I hate her._ Azel mused silently. _She wouldn't come unless she felt some driving need…_

"That I do not know. I believe you need to ask her that yourself."

The Crimson Rider sighed and nodded wearily. "Send her in, then."

The healer nodded, bowed slightly, and left the room.

A moment later, the violet-haired assassin entered hesitantly.

"M-master Azel?"

"Yes?" He looked at her evenly. "What is it?"

"Q-queen Yggdra requests your presence before her. The medics – they told me you should have sufficiently recovered for the task."

Azel let a breath out and nodded. "Very well. Lead me to her, then."

* * *

"Another bunch of requests?" Yggdra fairly groaned as she saw the stacks of paper cluttering up her desk. "I really need to find some one to delegate this authority to…"

She was cut off from her musing as the doors to her study opened, allowing two figures to step in.

"Sir Azel." She smiled pleasantly as she stood. "I trust our accommodations are to your liking."

The flame-haired knight nodded stiffly. "Better than what I am used to, madam. The infirmaries of our army barracks were much more… functional than luxurious."

Yggdra nodded. "Very well. Pleasantries aside, Sir Azel, I was hoping you could provide some much-needed assistance to me."

She saw the Bronquian knight's face crease in confusion. "Assistance?"

"Yes." She sighed. "Simply put, you're the highest ranking officer in the entire Bronquian army as of… well, right now. Everyone else of higher rank than you perished in the war." She closed her eyes for a moment, collecting her thoughts and trying to push away the memories. Finally, she opened her eyes again." The Bronquian situation right now is… prickly."

"Prickly." Azel ran a hand through his hair. "Lady Yggdra, permit me to ask you this: After killing Lord Gulcasa, what ruling body did you set up in place?"

"Uh…" Yggdra frowned. "Well, I… I assumed that it would be more efficient to handle the aftermath of the war if there was a centralization of everything…"

Azel didn't reply outright for a moment, merely took a pointed glance at the vast loads of paper that practically hid Yggdra's desk from view. Then he turned back to Yggdra with a sigh.

"Lady Yggdra, I have not been in touch with the events of the world for the past few weeks, save that you are victorious and Bronquia has been defeated. However, may I make an assumption?" Azel paused for a moment, a slight frown on his face. "Lawlessness runs rampant in Bronquia, from the tiniest of the countryside villages to the capital of Flarewerk itself. There are constant reports of riots, rebellions, and uprisings. The Bronquian knights are hard pressed to keep any of this in check, and in fact many of them are joining the insurgents themselves." He stopped, looked back at Yggdra. "How accurate am I in my guess, Lady Yggdra?"

The Queen of Fantasinia gave a weary nod as she collapsed back into her chair. "Very." She said softly.

"Lady Yggdra, as of right now, the Bronquians do not have many positive things to say about Fantasinians – to put it mildly. If I have not judged the temperament of my countrymen wrong… they will not accept a Fantasinian monarch in their lifetime."

Yggdra winced at his harsh words. "But…" She began hesitantly. "But I just want a peaceful land – I never want that war to repeat itself."

"Your goal is a noble one, Lady Yggdra." Azel replied. "But that does not reflect in the mindsets of the Bronquians. They see you merely as the invader who lay siege to Flarewerk and left the country in ruins without any sort of plan that would allow Bronquia to return itself to its former glory."

Yggdra sighed and settled down in her chair. "I suppose that was a bit of a mistake on my part."

Azel made no reply.

After an uncomfortable silence, Yggdra cleared her throat and began to speak again. "Ahem! Yes, well… So, Sir Azel, I was wondering if you could act as an envoy on my behalf to go to Bronquia and well, sort the situation out."

Yggdra saw Azel's face twitch slightly at this remark, and she could detect traces of incredulity in his voice as he answered. "Lady Yggdra, you expect me to… serve as your emissary? To go to my people and tell them that I represent you and your will?" His expression hardened. "I am grateful for your aid and your hospitality. But I will not act as your envoy or servant."

"Nobody is asking you to, Sir Azel." Yggdra replied softly. "Although," she chuckled. "I _do_ have to request you don't attempt to start a coup or anything of that nature. No. I just feel that of everyone, you're in the best position to help Bronquia to heal. I'd go myself, but, well, I…" She gestured helplessly towards the mounds of paper surrounding her.

"It's… probably better that you don't." Azel said softly.

"So, Sir Azel?" Yggdra looked at him hopefully.

"…I… request some time to consider my options first." He spoke in a measured tone.

"Of course." The queen of Fantasinia nodded. "Take what time you need."

"Then, I take my leave, Lady Yggdra." With a salute, he turned and left the room.

"Milady?" One of her stewards had entered the room. "Master Russell of Castle Karona is requesting in audience with you, your Highness."

"Very well. Send him in."

* * *

The Astral Fencer had been given his moniker mainly for the way his gleaming blade flashed in the sunlight as he faced down his opponents. Those who survived bouts with him had sworn it had resembled a shower of shooting stars, bearing down on them.

Russell had never much cared about such things anyway – the main reason he fought as best as he could was to earn enough money to keep himself and Flone in relative comfort. That objective being accomplished, whatever other accolades that had come his way were little more than light airs – pleasant but ultimately insubstantial.

He saluted crisply towards Yggdra's desk. He couldn't actually salute towards Yggdra, mainly because a combination of the mountains of paperwork and her bent head made it difficult to actually get a glimpse of the Fantasinian Queen.

"Your Highness?"

Yggdra's head popped up. "Oh, Sir Russell!" She smiled. "What news from Castle Karona?"

Russell sighed. "Bad news, I'm afraid, milady." He held out a sealed envelope. "The scribes would tell the tale better than I could."

Yggdra appropriated the envelope from him hesitantly and drew out the single sheet of plain paper within.

There was a slight pause, and her hands began to tremble.

* * *

"Sir Azel!" Elena cried out as the crimson haired knight staggered slightly in his walk.

In an instant, she was at his side, attempting to support him, to help him to stand.

"I'll be fine." He ground out through gritted teeth.

"I – I could tell you were struggling." Elena spoke hesitantly, "Even in Queen Yggdra's study…"

"…" Azel merely focused on breathing deeply and trying to regain his strength.

"Let me… I'll help you get back to the infirmary. Come on…" Slowly, step by step, the two of them traversed the route through the castle hallways.

* * *

Chapter End.

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Thanks for reading. **Please** review! 


	4. Deadlock

The Ties That Bind

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Sorry about the lag in update times. Ran into a rough patch of exams.

That said, update's here and all, so… hope you have fun.

Chapter 4: Deadlock

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Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"How… how many civilian casualties?" Yggdra finally broke the silence that had descended upon the throne room.

"The majority were spared the destruction." Russell said softly. "However, the marauders swept through three villages before being put down, and they put many of the buildings to the flame. We currently have a hundred and seventy homeless villagers seeking refuge."

He paused. "Milady, I… took the liberty of opening the courtyard of Castle Karona to the displaced peoples as a temporary refuge camp. I hope that I have not overstepped my bounds."

"No, no, of course not." Yggdra said hastily. "It's our duty to look after and protect the civilians." She swallowed. "What… what can you tell me about the dissidents?"

"The majority of them appear to be disillusioned peasantry hailing from the border regions of Grado and Fantasinia. However, within the ranks, there were several who were… significantly more skilled."

"What are you telling me, Master Russell?" Yggdra said steadily.

The Astral Fencer sighed and closed his eyes. "Several of the marauders fought not like rabble-rousers… but instead trained soldiers. I fought one whose skill should have earned him a rank of Captain within the Royal Army. Also…"

"Also…"

Russell hesitated. "Your highness, I have dedicated my life to the mastery of the blade. Part of that has been the analysis of distinct fighting styles that hail from each of the regions on the continent. During the battle, several of the soldiers fought with… they fought with the style of a Fantasinian Royal Knight."

The colour drained from Yggdra's face. "No…" She protested weakly. "It can't… that can't be."

"It is of course possible that I was mistaken. But I do not believe so." Russell continued. "Milady… we have to entertain the possibility that there are insurgents cells within the Fantasinian Army."

Yggdra slumped. "We've had enough trouble trying to convince the Bronquian Knights to remain with us. I didn't… I never thought we'd end up alienating our own soldiers."

A silence descended over the room for several seconds. Then Yggdra looked up, he face carefully neutral.

"Attend me."

A servant entered the room and bowed. "Your Highness."

"Durant should be returning from patrol soon. One he arrives, send him to me."

"Your will be done."

As soon as the servant had departed, another entered, bowing stiffly. "Your Majesty, your presence is required in the throne room for a meeting on the restoration effort."

Yggdra sighed. "No rest for the weary. I'll be there shortly." She turned to the Astral Fencer. "Master Russell, what are your plans?"

"I will be remaining in Castle Paltina for the next three days, barring unforeseen circumstances. After which I will be returning to Karona to continue overseeing the restoration of that region."

"Very well. With any luck, I'll have an answer, or at least more information, by then." Yggdra paused. "Fare you well, Master Russell."

"And you too, your Highness." Russell saluted, one hand at his breast, and departed.

* * *

"We're – we're here." Elena said softly.

Azel nodded. "…Thank you." He said softly as he staggered to his bed.

Elena paused. "Will you… will you be all right?"

Azel didn't respond for a long moment. "Send for a physician if you feel the need. Otherwise," he turned away from her. "Leave me be and let me rest."

She nodded hastily (though of course he didn't see her) and departed the room.

Once outside, she caught sight of Milanor walking down the corridor, apparently engrossed in a piece of parchment.

"Sir Milanor?"

"Wha – oh, Elena." Milanor's surprised expression rearranged itself into a cocky grin "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, nothing much." The assassin replied truthfully. "What about you?"

Milanor's grin grew wider. "Well, I've been making a few plans." He frowned, cupping his chin thoughtfully. "Say, Elena, we could use someone like you."

"H-huh?"

"I mean, you're good at being sneaky and all that, right? Most of my goons aren't really very subtle, so…"

"Hold on, hold on." Elena held up a hand in protest. "If you want me to help you in whatever you're planning then you should at least tell me more about it."

"Fair enough." Milanor lowered his voice to an appropriately conspiratorial level. "Here it is…"

* * *

"CAW!"

"Later, Achaeus." Russell barely glanced towards the Griffon as he walked out into the sun-drenched courtyard. "I've business to attend to."

Not to be deterred, the quad-limbed avian let out a short cry of discontent and walked forward, placing himself squarely in front the Astral Fencer. The purple-haired swordsman let out a sigh and a tiny chuckle.

"As resolute as your mistress." He murmured briefly as he ran a hand through the russet feathers of the Griffon, pausing only when his fingers brushed against a thick scar that ran from the back of Achaeus' neck all the wall down to its rear haunch.

"…" Russell closed his eyes and patted the Griffon on the head (he had to stand on tiptoe in order to manage such a feat). "Later, Achaeus, really. I promise I'll be back."

Giving in, Achaeus let out another caw and strode away several paces before opening his powerful wings and taking to skies.

The Astral Fencer continued to watch the Griffon for several long moments before he sighed, turned, and continued on his way.

* * *

"Master Azel?"

"Nnh?" The Crimson Rider quickly roused himself from slumber and turned to gaze calmly on the aide that had appeared. "Yes, what is it?"

"Her Highness instructed me to pass these scrolls to you. She said that she believed it would be of use to you."

Taking the top sheet off the rather sizable stack, he quickly scanned the contents. Stuff about revolts, general unrest... Bronquia…

"Understood." He nodded. "Thank you, please leave them on the bedside table."

As the aide departed, he caught sight of a shadow shifting in the doorway, and a flash of purple hair.

Elena.

"…" He closed his eyes, cleared his mind of thoughts, and returned to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Azel stood at the top of the castle ramparts, eyes closed, taking deep, steady breaths. The doctors had told him that this would help him recover his strength faster, and as he had no reason to doubt them, he did as the medics had advised.

Abruptly he heard the tramp of boots, and he turned to see the a man emerge into the dawn light. He frowned. The man seemed… familiar.

Then recognition dawned. "The Astral Fencer…" He said softly. "That's what they call you."

The man nodded. "Well met, Sir Azel."

"I… this is rather belated, but I wish to apologize on behalf of Bronquia for the treatment we showed you and your spouse."

Russell shook his head. "What's done is done. And… to raise up more sensitive issues, I believe the multitude of Bronquian soldiers that fell to my blade have left me equally in need of forgiveness." He closed his eyes and chuckled. "Only… it's slightly more troublesome to track down those whom I should seek forgiveness from."

Azel paused for a moment. "How is Flone?"

"She's doing well." Russell hesitated. "Crimson Rider Azel… may I ask you a question?"

"Yes?"

"Forgive me if this seems rude, but… why are you in the care of Paltina's servants?"

"…Life can be funny at times… I owe a debt to both Queen Yggdra and Elena." Azel closed his eyes and turned away. "Let's leave it at that."

Russell nodded respectfully, and after a few more trivial remarks he departed, on the pretext of having some work to do.

Azel watched him go, paused for a long moment, and sighed. "You can come out now."

There was an embarrassed cough, the shuffling of feet, and Elena emerged from her hiding place, a heavy blush on her cheeks.

Azel paused for a moment to glare at her. "Allowing for the fact that Assassin's are generally supposed to practice being able to sneak around, is there a particular reason you appear to be shadowing me?"

Elena hung her head low and mumbled something inaudible. Azel stared at her for a few seconds longer before waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Regardless, I have to ask you to refrain from continuing on this course of action. Agreed?"

Elena hesitated, looked as if she wanted to speak out – but thought the better of it and nodded.

Satisfied with that, Azel departed the area. The pain in his chest was beginning to grow, and it was best he returned to resting.

* * *

"Why isn't it **working**?" Roswell hissed to himself as he frantically flipped through the pages of the book he was holding in his hand. "The power of the Ankhs are diminished, true, but even then… the energy demand shouldn't be _that_ high either!"

He paused, frustrated. "Alright, if all of my current methods have failed to produce results, then perhaps I'm going about it wrong."

He stood from his desk, clearing away several of the piled up books with a sweep of his hand. "The power used within the Ankhs is crystallized magic of the purest kind, so it should be suited to the task… unless I'm missing something."

With a sigh, he cast a frustrated glance around the room and the veritable mountains of discarded books.

Reaching up, he pulled on a thick velvet cord, ringing a bell deep within the manor.

A servant entered. "Master Roswell?"

"Instruct the servants to prepare my bedchambers." Roswell muttered tiredly. He stepped out of the room, took two strides down the marbled hallway, paused, and turned back. "And get the rest of the staff to come and sort out these tomes."

"Understood."

Shaking his head forlornly, he headed off to the gardens, seeking to give himself a few minutes of fresh air.

* * *

Chapter End

* * *

Thank you for reading, please review. 


	5. Decisions and Doubt

The Ties That Bind.

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Chapter 5: Decisions and Doubts

* * *

Sorry for taking so long to update. There's one section in the middle that I had some trouble working with. Regardless, here it is.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Milady Yggdra! Sir Durant has returned!"

Yggdra nodded. "Good. Show him in."

Shortly thereafter, the doors swung open, but it was the figure of the Astral Fencer that entered the study, not the Knight Commander of Fantasinia. To Yggdra's questioning look he merely bowed slightly.

Several moments later the door opened, and Durant entered the room. Upon catching sight of the Queen, he saluted sharply.

"At ease, Durant." Yggdra said softly. "What news?"

"Bandit raids have been increasing in intensity in the eastern regions. The knights are hard pressed to hold them back."

"Ugh." Yggdra mumbled, rubbing her forehead. Of all those under her employ, no one was better at hunting down bandits than the famed Silver Wolf himself – takes one to know one, and all that – and lately it seemed that she'd had to ask more and more of him. He'd accepted whatever requests that came his way without complaint or apparent resentment, but Yggdra still didn't feel especially comfortable with asking too much of him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Russell standing at attention and cleared her throat.

"Yes, that reminds me… Durant, have there been any reports of soldiers deserting lately?"

The knight frowned. "Well, our information network is still rather patchy, but overall, reports indicate that most if not all of our men are still serving faithfully."

Yggdra let out a sigh of relief. Could it possible that Russell had been mistaken? The violet-haired swordsman cupped his chin thoughtfully.

"What about the 5th Cavalry?" He asked. "Any news from there?"

Durant nodded. "It's one of the wings that have been most constant and reliable in their reports. If reports are to be believed, they're performing superbly."

"…" The Fencer's face darkened. "If reports are to be believed…" He murmured softly.

"Master Russell?" The Queen turned to him, feeling a strange and rather unpleasant sensation in her gut. "You're not suggesting…"

"I asked about the 5th mainly because one of the marauders I fought bore such an emblem on his shield."

"It could have been scavenged from somewhere." Durant pointed out. "What with the number of insurgencies currently active in the country, the chances of soldiers being killed and stripped of their equipment would be rather high."

True, that's a possibility." Russell nodded. "However, it is likewise a possibility that several knights of the 5th Cavalry have deserted – and are now working to undermine our country."

"Reports say otherwise." Durant countered somewhat testily. Yggdra frowned. A knight himself, Durant would naturally not be pleased at the suggestion that fellow knights were deserters and oathbreakers.

"Well, we can't say for certain one way or the other right now." She spoke, hoping she sounded more confident and authoritative than she felt. "However, I don't feel like waiting around for this particular bunch to strike again so we can gain more information regarding them."

She paused. "I propose… that a team be sent out towards the 5th Cavalry's station to investigate this anomaly."

Durant frowned. "But, your Highness! We're already overstretched and undermanned as is! Can we really spare the men to go?"

"Admittedly, this team will have to be a small one." Yggdra turned to a copy of the continental map spread out over the desk. "Also, I don't much feel like pulling knights away from their duties. The 5th Cavalry is stationed near the eastern border, is it not?"

"Yes, Milady."

"Good. Now then, let's see…"

Russell coughed. "Milady, if I may be so bold, who do you intend to send?"

"Well…"

* * *

Propped up by several pillows, Azel sat in his assigned bed in the infirmary, slowly going over the details concerning the Bronquian situation.

It was about as he expected – general unrest, an increasingly disillusioned and disenfranchised populace, a generally depressing view of things.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe if he hadn't failed… if he had fought better… Bronquia wouldn't be the mess it was right now.

* * *

"_And who might you be?" The Garrison Commander snapped at him._

"_Sir Azel, acting commander of the Black Cavalry." He replied. "Or what remains of it. I was assigned under General Baldus following the death of General Leon. However, General Baldus has fallen as well. Those currently traveling with me are the survivors."_

"_The Crimson Rider, eh?" Before the Commander could continue, they heard a sharp voice._

"_That will do." Luciana strode into view, her piercing blue eyes locked on the crimson armoured knight. "I'm pleased to see you still alive, Sir Azel."_

_He quickly saluted her, and she returned the gesture. While Luciana and Aegina were not technically Dragon Generals, they were confidants of the Emperor himself, and they wielded considerable influence. Of course, their skill in battle was nothing to scoff at, either._

"_You're to be assigned to the main gate. The Fantasinian scum will be here soon." She said, undisguised venom flowing through her words. "Your only task is to hold the line. We're preparing a special surprise for those idiots."_

_Azel didn't bother to ask questions about this 'surprise'. "I hear and obey. May the Ebon Dragon never falter."_

* * *

"General Leon… and then General Baldus." Azel let out a short, barking laugh, feeling the jab of pain in his chest as he did so. _I failed to defend either of them, and in the end all I could do was escape with my own hide intact. Of course, that happened again, didn't it? At the gates of Flarewerk._

The door to his room swung open with a soft creak and the Crimson Rider glanced up, half expecting it to be Elena yet again. Instead it was form of the young Queen of Fantasinia that entered his room.

"Master Azel, how fare you?"

"Better." He replied noncommittally. "The healers say that in a couple of days I should be able to function normally, albeit still suffering several pains."

"That's good to hear." Yggdra's gaze shifted to the pile of papers on the sidedesk. "Ah, concerning my request…"

"I've not yet decided on it."

"Yes, well, actually…" Yggdra coughed. "There is… something else."

Azel frowned. She wasn't… "You're not saying you have _another_ task for me to perform, are you?"

"It's…. a relatively minor one."

"Well, if nothing else, you're certainly the only monarch I've ever met who would be crazy enough to make such requests of me." Azel paused and shook his head. "I suppose I might as well hear the details."

* * *

"Everything in place?" Milanor questioned.

"Just about." Elena replied with a grin on her face. After the stress and worry of recent times, it felt good to have something to focus on, to plan.

She pored over the crude outlines, she filled her mind with possibilities and mistakes, sourcing out errors and finding ways to correct them.

Meanwhile, Milanor was with the rest of his group, ordering them about. As he turned to give directions to yet another of his gang, one of the bandits stumbled, dropping the pile of wood he was carrying with a loud crash.

"Hey! Easy there!" The Silver Wolf snapped. "We don't want them knowing about what we're doing!"

"S-sorry, boss." The unfortunate lackey mumbled as he clambered to his feet. "Won't happen again."

"Yeah, that's what you all say." Milanor smirked.

"Hey, boss!" Flunky called out as he ducked in from the doorway. "I got it! Had to search half the streets of Paltina to find what we needed, but…" He handed a burlap pouch to Milanor. "These ones are guaranteed to work!"

"Good job, man." Milanor failed to suppress a grin as he grasped the bag tightly in his hand. "And with that, we've got everything we need!"

"All that's left is the actual setting up, hm?" Elena said absentmindedly.

"Yeah, pretty much. Thanks for your help too, Elena!"

"Was no problem." She murmured. "No problem at all."

* * *

"CAWWWW!"

Russell cracked open one eye to see a blaze of russet feathers in front of his face. A moment later a sharp, curved beak nudged his shoulder.

"I don't have any meat on me, Achaeus." The Astral Fencer said softly. "Why don't you go bother one of the palace cooks instead?"

The Griffon cawed reproachfully at him. Russell let out a tiny sigh, stood, and patted the winged beast's haunch.

"Well, I suppose I could go find some food for you. It's not like I'm on duty or anything, is it?"

"CAWWWW!" The avian lowered its head and rubbed it affectionately against Russell's shoulder. He chuckled slightly, a sound that quickly faded away into silence.

The Astral Fencer shook his head. "I've no right to be so adored by you, Achaeus. No right after all."

_Not after what happened. Not after what I did._

* * *

_Roots that poked out from the congealed, putrid mass of the swamps – that was all Russell could find purchase on, lest he risk being lost forever to the bogs._

_Drominos Marsh was a natural barrier that guarded the fastest possible route to the Bronquia's capital, Flarewerk. Given the massive mountains surrounding the obsidian fortress that was Gulcasa's castle and the last bastion of his power, cutting through the poison-filled marshes was the only available option, regardless of how undesirable it appeared to the soldiers._

_Clouds of sickly purple gas rose slightly above the oozing mud – and all around them were the cries of pitched battle. The Imperial Army had apparently scraped together a few divisions of ill-trained volunteers and were now throwing them into the proverbial meat grinder._

"_Is this what you want, Emperor of Carnage?" Russell mumbled to himself as he dodged a clumsy swing from an axefighter. His retaliatory strike left a dark stain on his armour, and another body sinking slowly into the murky darkness. "For your entire nation to go down with you? For the youth of Bronquia to all be sacrificed to the consuming fires of war?"_

_After what seemed an eternity, his feet found purchase on more solid ground. Heaving a silent sigh of relief, he was about to continue when he heard an all-too familiar screech above him._

"_Griffons! Take cover!" He heard Durant shout a warning that was quickly passed along the Royal Army. And not a moment too soon. Swooping down in a tight formation, and axes and clubs of the Griffon riders were brought to bear against the weary soldiers of Fantasinia. Having grown used to fighting relatively untrained and landlocked militia, the soldiers were ill-prepared to deal with the sudden aerial assault, and Russell could hear cries of pain and fear all across the front lines._

_He was about to turn to go to the aid of the others when something in his instincts warned him that someone was approaching him from behind at incredible speeds._

_Throwing himself forward, he felt the rush of air sweep over him as the Griffon narrowly missed slamming into his back. Russell quickly clambered to his feet, drawing his blade. The area around him was filled with twisted, withered trees. For a Griffon Rider to have approached him from so low and such an angle would have necessitated the rider being completely insane – or immensely skilled._

"_Emilia…" He said softly as the avian whirled around to reveal the scarlet-haired half sister of Bronquia's emperor. Her golden eyes narrowed as she stared at Russell with undisguised fury._

"_Russell!" She spat out. "Why'd you betray us?"_

"_Emilia…" Subconsciously, Russell shifted himself into a battle-ready stance. "You're the commander of the forces here?"_

"_Yeah!" She frowned. "And I have to protect them! It's my duty…" She paused, hesitating for the barest instant. "My duty as a Dragon General of Bronquia!"_

"_If you wish to save the lives of your men, then tell them to stand down." Russell spoke as passionately as he could. "They're not trained soldiers, Emilia. You and I both know that continuing the fight will only result in more meaningless deaths."_

"_Sh – shut up!" Her cry a mixture of rage, sorrow, anguish, desperation, and fear, she urged her Griffon forward._

"_My brother treated you fairly, Russell!" She cried out. "You were rewarded, your strength in combat recognized! WHY? Why did you betray us?"_

_Russell didn't bother with a reply, his entire focus pinned to defending himself from the furious blows of the Scarlet Princess. Even as he dodged, ducked, and weaved, he couldn't help but note that Emilia was growing increasingly frustrated. And that whenever she tried to land a hard strike on the Astral Fencer, her griffon would always be in the way._

_Finally, she broke off the melee backing her Griffon up to a cluster of dying trees. Panting from the emotion, he glared down at her steed. "Achaeus, what's __**wrong**__ with you?" She demanded?_

"_CAW!" The Griffon merely gazed up at her before shifting its gaze back to the Astral Fencer._

"_It doesn't want to fight me. And it doesn't want you to fight me either." Russell said softly, more to himself than anyone else. However, by the way Emilia reacted, she apparently thought this a bard at her._

"_I said __**SHUT UP**__!" Emilia howled once more, and with a quick snap of her reins, threw the Griffon into a forward lunge._

_Instinctively, Russell leaned to the side, at the same time bringing his blade up in a sweeping maneuver. There was a sudden jolt, a screech, and Russell suddenly felt pain explode in his hands at about the same time her realized he was no longer holding onto his sword._

_Letting out an involuntary hiss of agony, he quickly turned, trying to recover his fallen weapon. He was met by a tangled bundle of orange and red, shivering on the ground. Close to the ground lay Achaeus, his blade buried deep into its haunch._

"_E- Emilia!" Russell blurted out as he staggered towards the fallen warrior. She was lying at the roots of yet another tree, and he could detect traces of blood spatter on the rough bark. Finally, he reached her._

_The sudden shock of Achaeus' being knocked out of his lunge must have hurled her from her place on the Griffon, where she had impacted with the tree with tremendous force._

_Ignoring the burning pain in his hands – he'd probably torn a tendon or something – he leaned down, prodding Emilia weakly. "Emilia? Can you hear me?"_

_Softly, her eyes fluttered open. "R- Russell?" She whispered._

"_Hang in there, Emilia. You'll be alright." He was no trained physician, but he could tell that her wounds – internal or otherwise – were extremely serious._

_She shifted weakly. "I… I only wanted…"_

"_Don't move!" He spoke urgently. "Focus on conserving your strength. I'll get a healer-"_

"_I only want…" She whispered. "Wanted… to protect everyone. To protect… Bronquia… my brother." A weak cough._

_Salve… had he brought any with him? He vaguely remembered doing so…_

_A tiny hand reaching out. "Russell…I… favour… need… ask you… favour…"_

"…" _He grasped her hand silently._

"_Achaeus… my Griffon… look after him… when I… no longer here…"_

"_Emilia…" There were no other words at a time like this._

_Emilia's eyes fluttered closed, a tear leaking out. "Russell… my brother… Bronquia… please… don't… ahhh…" There was a soft exhalation, and she was gone._

_Silently, Russell arranged the corpse into the most presentable fashion he could. He was about to stand from the body when he heard a weak squawk and saw the Griffon – Achaeus – crawling limply over to its rider's side._

_Softly, it nudged her once, twice, three times with its curved beak. There was no response._

_And as the battle continued to rage, the darkening sky was pierced with the terrible sound of a Griffon's scream._

* * *

"Milady, Master Azel requests an audience with you."

"Show him in." Yggdra murmured softly as she continued to write furiously with her pen. The servant nodded and vanished beyond the doors to her study.

A moment later, the Crimson Rider entered. He saluted the Fantasinian monarch.

"At ease, Sir Azel." Yggdra looked up from her paperwork, smiling softly.

Azel nodded. "Milady, I have come to inform you of my decision."

"Oh?"

"Concerning the Bronquian issue… I am, frankly, still undecided on that." He paused. "However, with regards towards the 5th Cavalry, I am willing to acquiesce to your request – under the condition that you allow me to select those who are to travel with me to ascertain the true condition of that unit."

She paused, nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I have to see who you have in mind."

"I thought you might. Here." Azel stepped forward handing Yggdra a single sheet of paper.

She glanced through the list, tapped the desk a couple of times, sighed, and pulled a cord hanging next to her. An instant later, a servant entered.

"Yes, Your Higness?"

"Please send word for Sir Russell, Master Milanor…" she paused. "As well as Dame Elena, to report to the Study immediately. That is all."

* * *

"M- master Roswell!"

"Good afternoon." The Lord of Black Rose shrugged on his traveling cloak. "Perfect timing too, Temas. Send word for my carriage to be readied, and for the cooks to prepare adequate provisions for… oh, a week or so. Nothing fancy – bread and water will do fine if need be."

"Y – you are taking a trip, my lord?"

"Yes, and I intend to start tonight." Roswell strode purposefully down the hallway of his Manor. "A guard of five knights and two mages should be enough to deal with any bandit threats we meet on the way, don't you think?"

"B- but Master Roswell! The Verlaine Hills needs your guidance-"

"Most of the necessary tasks have already been delegated towards the appropriate positions. If there is _truly_ an urgent need to contact me, you may use the summoning stone in the central chamber. I trust your discernment enough that you won't use it inappropriately."

Temas sighed as he realized he obviously wasn't going to be winning any arguments with his Lord anytime soon. "May I ask the destination of your trip, Master Roswell?" He question.

Roswell paused and half-turned to face his servant. "Embellia," he said softly. "Home of the Undines."

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	6. Journey

The Ties That Bind

* * *

Chapter 6: Journey

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"You called, Yggdra?" Milanor grinned as he poked his head into her study.

The grin quickly faded as he realized that he wasn't the only person there – Russell and Elena were standing at attention, as was some red-haired guy he hadn't seen before, and based on the way they were looking at him, he was probably the last one of the bunch to reach.

"Perfect timing, Milanor." Yggdra said, not without sarcasm. "Come in, I've… a request to make of you." She shifted her gaze to Russell and Elena. "Of _all_ of you."

Russell nodded. Of the three of them, it seemed he was the one with the clearest idea of what was about to occur. With a mental shrug, Milanor fell into line, certain that Yggdra would tell them whatever necessary.

Yggdra paused, sighed, and continued. "I'm sure you all know… that our current situation is not the most pleasant one. There's unrest, discontent, general chaos, and problems all over the continent. And added to that… we've received reports that several of our knights have turned their coats as well."

Milanor frowned bur said nothing.

"Master Russell has furnished me with disquieting news concerning the 5th cavalry… stationed near the Bronquia border." She blew out a breath of air. "Therefore, I wish to form a team consisting of all of you," she paused to give a glance to the red-haired man. "To go to the 5th cavalry's station and to ascertain if such reports hold any merit." She held up a folded and sealed letter. "This here indicates that you're using the station as a reconnaissance point to root out nearby bandit encampments – and frankly, there _are_ a lot of reports of thievery from the region. But your primary purpose is to… well, monitor the 5th."

_Even now she feels too uncomfortable to say 'spy'._ Milanor noted.

Yggdra paused a long moment. "Well…" She said softly. "Do you accept?"

Milanor risked a glance at Elena and Russell before looking back at Yggdra. "Well, I'm not sure why you chose me-"

"Ahem." Yggdra coughed politely. "Not me, actually. You'll have to ask him." She indicated the red-haired man. "Milanor, this is Sir Azel, Knight Commander of Bronquia and former second-in-command of the Black Cavalry."

Azel saluted crisply. "I believe I had the honour of facing you in combat once." He said, the ghost of a smile on his smile. "Your weapon of choice is rather… unique."

Milanor kept his expression neutral as he returned a gesture of friendship. _A Bronquian, hm? Didn't know we had one of them around here._

"Excuse me." Yggdra's voice intruded. "I don't wish to rush you unnecessarily, but the fact remains that we're rather pressed for time. Do you accept?"

Milanor turned it over in his mind for a couple of seconds before grinning. "Heh. It's not like I've got a tonne on my plate right now anyways. Sure."

Elena nodded. "Anything to aid you, your Highness."

Russell inclined his head slightly. "I accept, naturally."

Yggdra smiled, relieved. "Good. Well, if there's no problems, could we ask you to set off tomorrow?"'

Milanor tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hey, Yggdra. Would it be okay if I brought along a couple of my men? They could be useful, y'know, considering the situation and all."

Yggdra turned to look questioningly at Azel. He nodded. "I've no objections."

"All right then. I'd like you to be at the courtyard at the beginning of the second watch tomorrow, ready to be on your way. Dismissed."

* * *

As the others began to file out of the room, Milanor and Azel hung back. Yggdra turned to her friend, a questioning look in her eye. "Anything the matter?"

"Naw, not really." Milanor flashed his trademark cocky smile. "Just wanted to remind you to get yourself some rest."

Yggdra's smile became tired. "I know, Milanor. But there's just so much to do, and… well…" She shrugged. "I don't want to give the image that I'm not concerned about the populace. I think… I think they'd feel a bit better if they knew their queen was working as hard as she could for them."

Milanor chuckled. "Well, it's not going to do anyone any good if you keel over, either. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Yggdra nodded and smiled. "Got it."

As the Silver Wolf left the room, Yggdra turned back to Azel. "Anything else, sir knight?" She asked respectfully.

He paused, seemingly wanting to say something before he thought the better of it. "No, not really, your highness. I would just like to say… I'm honoured that you would choose me to head this mission."

"Thank you." Yggdra nodded, and as Azel left the room, she returned to her work.

(X)

As Azel left the Queen's study, he silently reflected on how what he had observed during the little meeting they had just been through.

Chief among his observations, and what he'd wanted to say to Yggdra before he thought better of it, was that the three of them – from such a diverse range of backgrounds and walks of life, all seemed singularly devoted to her. He _had_ heard about her ability to inspire devotion and loyalty – worthwhile traits for any would-be leader, but it was really the first time he'd seen a glimpse of it for himself.

In that sense, he mused, she was much like Emperor Gulcasa himself. His intense energy and charisma had made many people pledge allegiance to him long before he'd ever been crowned Emperor – which was of course a major factor in why he'd succeeded in his revolt against the former Emperor of Bronquia.

Not that any of that was the least bit relevant now, of course…

He was almost back at the door of his room before he noticed that Elena was standing there, a hesitant look on her face.

Forcing himself not to frown at her, he stopped in front of her, folding his arms. "Is there a reason you're here?"

Elena glanced down at the ground, obviously uncomfortable. Finally, she sighed and spoke up. "Sir Azel… why did you choose me for this mission? I thought… I thought you hated me?"

_I do._ Azel let the response go unspoken as he turned away and stepped deeper into the room.

"Sir Azel?"

He sighed once and turned to face. "Elena, are you familiar with the concept of a meritocracy? Where one is recognized not for their personality, but for ability alone?" He paused. "I told you this before; Bronquia's generals were made generals based on their prowess in combat – and I'm sure you know that almost no one liked Leon as a person, but nevertheless they were glad that he was on their side on the battlefield." Running a hand through his hair, he turned away again. "You were a student of Master Zilva. That alone puts you above many others in the same profession, and in this mission I will probably require someone with your talents. That was why I chose you as part of the team. Any other questions?"

"N – no, I suppose not."

"Good. Then you'd best get yourself prepared for our journey tomorrow- and to say whatever farewells you might wish." Having finished speaking, Azel settled himself down at a desk and began going through several papers.

Meanwhile, Elena stood there for several long moments, as if unsure of what to do, before finally departing herself.

* * *

"All right, boys! Change of plans! Get your gear and get ready to move by sunrise tomorrow!" Milanor bellowed as he entered the Wreck Room. "Bet the castle guards will be glad to be rid of your stink for a while!"

A few of the bandits glanced up from where they were sitting. "Where we headed to, boss? Another bandit raid?"

"Sure, there'll probably be some of that along the way." Milanor shrugged. "But our _real_ mission is all hush-hush and that. I'll tell you lot on a need to know basis."

Flunky, who'd been napping in a corner, opened one eye to glance at Milanor. "Hey, boss. What about…"

"It's still on, doncha worry." Milanor let out a tiny grin. "In fact, that's the other reason I came here. Get ready, you louts! We don't want to be late!"

The resounding cheer that erupted from his men made Milanor's grin all the more fiercer.

* * *

"Your Majesty?"

Yggdra glanced up, reflecting with a trace of bitterness that there was nothing particularly majestic about her at that particular moment. Pulling all-nighters was becoming increasingly frequent as of late, and tonight had been no exception. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes were bleary and had trouble focusing – more than a mild irritation when having to deal with the multitude of forms that she had on her desk, and she suspected that she looked rather gaunt.

Rubbing her forehead slightly, she sighed and nodded to the aide. "Yes, what is it?"

"Your Majesty… you told us to remind you to go to sleep if you had not done so by this time." The aide said softly.

Yes… yes, of course. She had done that. Nodding wearily, she stood. "Thanks for reminding me."

Gathering a few personal artifacts, she began walking to her bedroom, accompanied all the way by several of her personal handmaidens and guards.

_That's the trouble with being a Queen, I suppose._ Yggdra chuckled to herself. _No privacy._

As she reached her bedroom, she turned and nodded almost imperceptibly to the guards. Saluting once, they took up their positions at both sides of the doorway. Nodding once more to her handmaidens, she lay her hand on the handle of the door and pushed it open.

There was a moment of total silence, and suddenly a nonstop squeal of small, rapid explosions, followed by her vision being obscured by dozens – no, _hundreds_ of tiny strips of brightly coloured paper. As she stood there in befuddlement for several long seconds, she heard shouts coming from within her room.

"_**SURPRISE!"**_Milanor and his gang yelled from various positions in her rather spacious room. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Elena was there as well, grinning nervously.

Brushing some of the streamers out of her hair, she focused on the Silver Wolf as he neared, bearing a large package as he approached her.

"I assume there's an explanation for this?" She asked, arms folded, although she was unable to keep the tiny grin off her face.

"'Course!" Milanor swung the package up. "Everybody knows you've been killing yourself over trying to this land together, so we decided that it's high time we turned around and did stuff for you instead. You're a Queen, right? Queens are supposed to be pampered and all that – so tonight there's a party in your honour – and everyone's invited!"

_PH-WEEEEEEEET!_ One of Milanor's lackeys was blowing on a flute of some kind, ostensibly with the intent of making music. Already more people were starting to congregate around the general area. Yggdra shook her head in bemusement.

"How many people knew about this?"

"Most that cared to did." Milanor chuckled. "Anyway, we've got some cake and everythin', so right this way, your highness…"

* * *

Russell leaned in the doorway, watching the organized chaos around him with a slight smile on his face. He wasn't really one for wild partying, of course, but the general atmosphere was such that it would be rather difficult to feel unhappy.

Unless, of course, one really hated crowds.

Lifting his wineglass to his lips, he was about to drink from it when he spotted Azel down the corridor, observing the party with an impassive expression on his face.

Waiting until he'd caught the Crimson Rider's eye, Russell inclined his head ever so slightly, inviting Azel to come and participate in the festivities.

Azel shook his head slightly, though the ghost of a smile appeared on his face. Then he turned around and departed in the direction of his quarters.

* * *

The next morning, the sun rose to shine upon a tiny band standing in the castle courtyard, gear at the ready, obviously prepared for a journey ahead of them.

Standing at the head of the pack, Milanor grinned at Yggdraas she walked up to meet them. "Why, just look at you," he grinned. "Positively radiant. Guess that party of ours did its work, didn't it?"

"It sure did." Yggdra smiled warmly. "Milanor… Elena… thank you."

Elena flushed slightly. "It – it was nothing, your Majesty. Think nothing of it."

"Hey, what about us?" Some of the bandits protested indignantly. "We did a lot of work too, you know!"

"I'm sure you all did." Yggdra laughed. "Thank you, everyone."

Just then, Azel approached. "Milady Yggdra," he said, saluting. "Our provisions have been loaded. We are fully ready to depart."

Yggdra nodded with satisfaction. "Good. Then, I wish you luck. May God be with you on your journey."

Azel saluted once more, and signaled the rest of the group to move out.

Slowly, the gates to the Fantasinian Royal Palace slid open, revealing the road that lay ahead before them.

Milanor paused slightly to give Yggdra a look of reassurance – and then they were setting off on their task.

And from atop the battlements, a lone figure watched the tiny band step beyond the castle walls.

_Hmph. Even better than I'd hoped. Things are proceeding according to plan, then…_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter End**

* * *

Well, sorry if the update seems short (and I took way too long with bringing this out), and I wish I could promise I'll do better next time, but I've got some upcoming… issues that will likely mess up my updating schedule even more.

Thank you for reading, please review.


	7. Motive, Means, Method, Malignancy

The Ties That Bind

* * *

Chapter 7: Motive, Means, Method, Malignancy

* * *

Author's note: This is going to be a short chapter. (Again.) Sorry, but I'm in the middle of National Service, which basically means no free time. If it's a tradeoff between shorter chapters with quicker update times and longer chapters with huge stretches of nothing in between, I'm choosing the latter. Not that I ever update very fast anyway. (sweatdrop)

* * *

Blood.

The battlefield was an ocean of the scarlet liquid, crimson terror splashed messily over wall and doorway and table and chair and body. The stench permeated the entire area, filling one's mind with the reek until one could not even remember a time where once there had been no blood, where there had once been sun and grass and laughter.

Fire.

Seething heat flooded the fortress, as suffocating as it was inescapable. Orange tongues of flame gnawed hungrily at anything that could be consumed. Their dry crackling was laughter, laughter of crazed demons from the abyss. The acrid fumes of the smoke mingled with the blood, stinging the eyes with a thousand sharp needles, torturing lungs and forcing them to cry out their agony in muted coughs.

And in the centre of it all, half-trapped, half-exulting in the hell of his personal making, _he_ stood.

Laughing.

He was known by many names. The Blazing Emperor. The Emperor of Carnage. Bronquia's Star. The Dragon Reborn.

He was feared amongst those he fought, lauded by those he ruled, revered by those he commanded. His skill in battle was the stuff of legend. His raging fury was said to be fueled by the darkest fires of hell.

Gulcasa.

There he stood, golden eyes flaring with malice, hatred, rage. Lips curled back in a snarl, scarlet hair flowing down like a mane behind his head.

His helm was long shattered, though a few scattered pieces of metal remained tangled in his hair. His breastplate was slick with blood, and in his hands he clutched a bloodred scythe. His once magnificent cloak lay in tattered rags about his broken body, shreds of it fluttering about in the fire-borne storms. His breathing was ragged, and countless wounds crisscrossed over his battered frame. At his side, his dragon mount stirred feebly, giving tortured gasps as it bled out the last of its life onto the ancient stone.

Yggdra stood in front of him, her heart in her mouth, holding the Gran Centurio forward. Pointing it at him.

"You were _magnificent._ Your strength… your skill…" Gulcasa said softly, so softly that only Yggdra and none of her retinue that stood behind her, could hear. "You have proved the stronger… and only the strong have the right to rule." Even as he spoke, his grasp on his weapon failed him, and the scythe clattered to the floor. With a groan, he slumped to the ground, head bent forward.

"You're wrong." Yggdra said, finally finding her voice. "A kingdom forged on the basis of strength alone is meaningless. It is justice, compassion, mercy, wisdom… these are what make a ruler worthy."

"Fine words," Gulcasa raised his head enough to look her in the eye. "For a butcher such as yourself, they must hold such profound truths, no?"

"…"

"The land – all Bronquia – is bathed in the blood of countless youths. Those you refused to spare, those you slaughtered… if only they could hear you now!" He laughed, and it was a laugh of agony and pain, and the Emperor of Bronquia had to place his arms on the floor to support himself. "If only they could hear you now…" He repeated softly.

"No… No!" Yggdra shook her head, protesting. "I didn't want to kill anyone! I asked them to stand down, they refused… and… and I…"

"And you hated me so very, very much – so much that you cut them all down, ordered your soldiers to trample all in your path – just so you could reach me – could exact your vengeance for your dear parents. And now you have it." Gulcasa no longer looked her in the eye. "I'm sure your mother and father are _very_ proud of what you've done… _Queen_." He coughed, and another dark stain appeared on the floor. "Your 'justice' has prevailed. Now leave me… I'm sure you have… much work to do… a victory… to celebrate… a continent… to… run…" The body of the Emperor slumped forward, clattering noisily onto the stone floor. And Yggdra stood there for a timeless eternity, pointing her blade at his still body, shivering and shaking as tears rolled down her face.

"He's right, you know."

"Wha-" Yggdra whirled around to confront the two people who had come up beside her. The sandy haired boy had a gash which split his face from crown to chin, from which blood flowed and a smile that lacked any traces of levity. Beside him, an auburn haired female, a sword thrust through her chest, stepped silently up beside him.

"You… you…" Yggdra was trembling, her sword forgotten as she stepped backwards.

"We died. We died when you tried to invade our home… when we tried to defend our ways of life… we died when you ordered us killed."

"No… NO!" Yggdra shook her head vehemently. "That's wrong! I asked you to surrender! I had no quarrel with you! I-"

"And yet we died all the same." The male stepped forward, his smile gone. "We _all_ died." And at that Yggdra suddenly noticed that all around her was a sea of silent faces. Every last one of them was staring silently at her, expressionless, motionless, their blank gazes far more condemnation than she could ever bear. Some bore armour, some bore the simple threads of peasant folk, but all of them bore deep, horrendous wounds. Fatal wounds.

"No… no… no…" Yggdra could only whisper the same word numbly to herself as she continued to back away, trying to find somewhere – _anywhere_ – where she could escape their silence, their stares.

"So I suppose it's only fair," The female said softly as she stepped forward. "That you die too." Heeding some unseen signal, the crowd moved forward as well. Towards her. Towards Yggdra.

"Come with us!" Strong hands seized her body, and no matter how she struggled, she could not break free from their grasp. "Come with us! Come with us! Come with us!" The singular chant echoed through the darkness, the crowd pinning her down, forcing her to the floor.

Yggdra screamed in terror, in sorrow, in pain, in shock. She screamed as she twisted, fought, struggled, tried to escape the grasping hands, tried not to look into the blank, empty expressions all around her, tried to squeeze out from the crushing weight of her own guilt.

She screamed.

"Your Majesty! Please, compose yourse-"

One of the faces leaned in closer, and instinctively Yggdra swung her elbow up, connecting with that person's face and sending that person sprawling.

"GET AWAY!" She shrieked, eyes wild. "**GET AWAY FROM ME!**"

"Your Highness!"

Something in those words penetrated the haze of terror that surrounded her, and she whirled, quickly taking in her surroundings.

She was in her bedchambers, her handmaidens surrounding her and trying to hold her down. "I…" She whispered shakily.

It had been a bad dream. Nothing more. "I… thank you… I'm sorry." She said tiredly.

It was only then that she noticed one of her handmaidens lying sprawled on the floor, trying to catch her breath.

"Elincia!" In a moment Yggdra was out of bed and at her side. She remembered striking at someone who had come to close to her… "I… I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me…"

Darkness still clothed the land, and in that moment, it felt as though it had a vice-grip on Yggdra's heart as well.

* * *

Azel stood silenly, keeping watch as the others slept in the predawn stillness. Milanor had offered to take Azel's slot, citing general restlessness as a reason, but the Crimson Rider had refused. After all, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

Accepting this mission was odd for him – to say the least. _To think that I'd be working at the behest of a Fantasinian Queen…_ He sighed to himself. It wasn't as if he actively _hated_ Yggdra, although he certainly couldn't claim to be one of her bigger fans for obvious reasons.

At the end of the day, he supposed what he was doing was the right thing. The war was over now – there weren't any restrictions on him helping Fantasinians, were there?

And yet… he couldn't shake the odd feeling.

"I've been conditioned to regard Fantasinians as foes, I suppose." He mumbled to himself as he stared out at the darkness. As he did so, he realized that his shift was nearly up. It was time to go wake Elena so she could take over.

With a sigh of apprehension, he started for her tent. It was distinct - separated from the rest of their band, not enough so that their security would be compromised, but definitely enough for it to be noticeable.

Elena would be asleep by now – there wouldn't have been much embarrassment in opening the tent flap and calling out her name – over the past few days he'd learnt that she was a light sleeper, and would thus awaken when called.

Squatting, he pulled open the tent flap.

"No… please."

Sleeptalking? Odd, Azel decided. He'd never pegged Elena as the type.

"Stop, Leon… stop it!" The flame-haired knight's eyes narrowed at the mention of his former leader. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if what he was doing now counted as a violation of privacy.

"NO!" Elena shrieked, writhing in her sleep. "Please, stop it! I'm _sorry_! I'm SORRY! I had no choice! Please, no! **NO**!"

Azel's frown deepened. "ELENA!"

Her eyes snapped open and she jerked upright. She caught sight of Azel silhouetted against the dimness of the sky and she recoiled. "Don't hurt me!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Elena." Azel said softly. "You were having a nightmare – I presume it was a nightmare."

Elena shuddered at the memory of it, subconsciously hugging herself. "Leon…" She whispered.

The Crimson Rider shook his head. "Anyway, it's your turn to keep watch."

"Oh? …Oh! Ah! Thanks for coming to get me." Elena said quickly as she clambered past Azel to get out into the coolness of the night air.

She left quickly. But not too quickly for Azel to spot the tiny sheen of sweat that covered her neck and shoulders as she stepped past him.

He folded his arms, looking at her for a long moment. Then, shaking his head, he turned towards his own tent.

* * *

Later, the group had assembled, and while eating their morning meals, they continued to plan their course of action. Sitting by the sidelines, Elena merely listened quietly to what they were saying.

"Castle Karona is close by, and on our route." Russell was saying as he peered over a map. "If we leave soon, we can be there before nightfall. I think most of us want a night's rest in a more comfortable bed once in a while."

"I'm not opposed to it." Azel nodded. "However…" He glanced over to where Milanor's bandits were lounging about, engaged in simple games, or simply tussling with each other. "I am unsure if the Castle is prepared for such… well, rowdiness."

"Don'cha worry." Milanor grinned as he folded his arms. "My band's a rowdy bunch, true, but they're all good people. I can keep 'em in line, I promise."

And with that, it was all but settled. Elena heard Milanor bellow to his men to get their rear in gear and be ready to move within ten minutes. As for herself, she'd already dismantled her tent upon waking, and packed all her essentials the night before – a simple grabbing of the bundle beside her and she was good to go.

"Elena." Azel was coming up to her. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Y – yes, Sir Azel." She said softly.

"I see. Then leave your belongings for the moment. I've something to discuss with you."

Elena blinked, surprised by this sudden request. Nevertheless, she obliged and the two of them wandered off slightly, out of earshot of the others.

"Yes, Sir Azel?"

The scarlet-haired knight didn't say anything for a long moment. Then he sighed. "You had a dream about… General Leon last night, didn't you?"

This startled Elena, and she had to swallow for several seconds before finding an answer. "Well, I – yes, I did."

A shadow passed over Azel's eyes. "I ask that you pardon the bluntness of my question, but… what was the dream about?"

_And why do you care?_ The question remained unspoken. Elena averted her gaze, staring miserably at the ground. The dream was still all too fresh in her mind.

"_Traitorous little bastard of a sister… Think you're too good for your brother, eh? Think you're too good for Bronquia, don't you?"_

"_No… you're wrong…"_

"_You've got some guts, girl, killing me like that. Well, now there's no one here to protect you now. Just you and me – and I've got an itch to pay back what I've got."_

"_No, stop it! Stop it, Leon! Please!"_

"_Aw, did that hurt, little sister? Good. I want you to scream. I want to see your pretty little eyes rolling in terror. I want to see you struggle. I want to see you trembling, broken. You think I mistreated the people I commanded, did you? You ain't seen nothing yet."_

"_No! NO! Please, stop it! STOP! I… I'm sorry! I'M SORRY! I had no choice! Please!"_

Elena realized she was shivering at the recollection, and that she couldn't make herself stop.

Apparently, Azel noticed this too, for he sighed and stepped way. "Never mind. I'm… I apologize for forcing you to remember it again."

Then he left, leaving Elena alone with her nightmares.

* * *

"Master Milanor?"

Milanor glanced up, smirking at Russell. "Why do you peeps always call me that? I'm no 'master'. I'm just a simple thief who happens to be very good at what he does."

Russell smiled. "You are a confidante and close friend of the Fantasinian monarch. That allows you to be addressed respectfully, if nothing else."

"Yeah, yeah." The Silver Wolf chuckled and waved it away. "What is it you want, Sir Russell?"

"Now it's my turn to feel uncomfortable when addressed respectifully." The purple-haired fenced sighed. "In truth, I came here because… I detected that you're not feeling entirely well."

"And what makes you think that?" Milanor's gaze hardened as he looked to Russell.

"Well… if nothing else, it's the fact that you have bags under your eyes, indicating that you've not slept well recently."

Milanor sighed. "So maybe I haven't. So what? I've got problems, sure – but I can deal with them on my own." He managed a slight smile. "Don't you worry about me, Russell. I can take care of myself."

Russell was obviously unconvinced, but nevertheless he nodded. "I shall accede to your wishes, then." Saying so, he turned and walked away.

Milanor watched him long enough to be certain that the Lord of Castle Karona could no longer see him, and then he buried his head in his hands, his body hunched over.

"Kylier…"

* * *

"Nietzsche?" Roswell smiled and bowed slightly. "It is good to see you."

"Roswell!" The Undine grinned. "Nietzsche's happy to see you too! How are you?"

"Fine. Just fine." The mage paused. "Did you… did you get the letter I sent you?"

"Of course." The smile on Nietzsche's face turned into a frown. "But Nietzsche's not sure about this…"

Roswell nodded understandingly. "You're worried about something like what happened with your sister happening again, are you not?" His smile widened. "Well, I've thought of a compromise. Once I've decided if I can accomplish what I've set out to do, then I'll bring my stuff over here to perform the spell instead of moving it all the way back to the Verlaine Hills. Would that suffice?"

Nietzsche's expression brightened. "Wow! Nietzsche never thought about that! No wonder everyone says you're smart!"

Roswell chuckled. "They say that? Well, everyone has his admirers, I suppose. Could you lead me to it, now?"

"Sure!"

The two of them moved from the gates through the city, the mage silently observing the proceedings around them. A large portion of the city was in ruins – he'd heard about Yggdra's campaign against Embellia shortly before her group had reached the Verlaine Hills. Rebuilding was a long and tedious process by any measure.

_Still, from what I can tell, they're having a better time of it than Fantasinia and Bronquia._ Roswell closed his eyes briefly and heaved a sigh. _I really should be helping Yggdra out – it's my duty as a Fantasinian noble, after all._ He nodded to himself. _Just after this. After I'm done – after she comes back… I'm sure she would lend her aid too._

Finally, they arrived. The doors to the temple were opened, and the guards at both sides glanced suspiciously at Roswell as the Necromancer and his Undine companion entered. Once inside, Roswell's gaze was immediately arrested by the shining jewel that lay in front of them.

"Well… this is it." Nietzsche gestured slightly, obviously nervous.

"Yes, this is it." Roswell echoed as he stepped forward, raising his hand and letting it brush across the smooth surface of the gem. The places where his gloved fingers had touched sparkled briefly, flashing with all the colours of the rainbow.

_The Transmigragem. A jewel… a jewel that holds the power of Life._

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	8. Overload

The Ties That Bind

* * *

Chapter 8: Overloaded

* * *

Ooh, Pokemon Platinum announced!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Well," Russell's soft voice broke Elena from her daydream. "We're here."

She glanced up at the ancient stone edifice. Castle Karona was not unfamiliar to her – after all, when Gulcasa still had command of it, she'd been here often enough with Master Zilva, ready to receive her assignments.

_Of course, I botched a fair number of them._ She thought, with a bit of lingering distaste. To be sure, a large amount of the reason for such a failure had come from the incredible competence of Yggdra and her ragtag freedom fighters – and of course, Master Zilva had usually fared no better – but the undeniable fact that she had muffed up her assigned tasks wasn't something that sat easy with her.

Of course, it was all null and void after what she'd done anyway…

Upon catching sight of Russell's approach, the soldiers manning the gates hurriedly gave words for them to be opened, and the small band of travelers entered the courtyard.

After the marauders had left so many displaced and homeless, Russell had ordered the gates of the fortress to be opened to the refuges, and now they were packed into the courtyard, displaced villagers with nowhere else to turn.

All around them, servants hurried around, dispensing foodstuffs and other necessities. Women huddled about in rags, clutching their children close to them. A few men wandered aimlessly around the area, lost, dazed expressions on their faces.

Silent, Elena averted her eyes. Even after all her training, she could never bear to see innocent suffering. She could almost hear Master Zilva's voice right now, lecturing her on how the heart was a liability in combat.

But no matter how hard she'd tried, it had never worked out. Admittedly, she had never tried very hard – she could never shake the feeling that to harden one's heart to such scenes would be… well, that it would be akin to giving up a bit of her humanity.

"What are the developments?" She heard Russell talking to an aide who had rushed up.

"We're doing all right in terms of providing adequate rations for the refugees… but only barely." The aide sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Milord, if I may be so bold as to ask, how did your petition for extra supplies from the Queen go?"

"About as well as could be expected," The purple haired fencer sighed. "We'll be getting aid, but far less than what we need. They simply don't have the resources. Anyway!" He half-turned to gesture at the group of people still standing in the entrance of the courtyard, as if unsure of what to do. "Get guest rooms ready for them. We'll be on the march again soon enough, but I think comfortable rooms are in order for at least one night."

"Of course. Right away…"

* * *

"Hey, boss!"

Milanor glanced up from where he had been sitting perched on the windowsill, gazing down at the crowding mass of people in the courtyard. "Yeah?" He drawled lazily as he turned to face his underling. "What's up?"

A confused look appeared on the bandit's face. "Uh… not down?" He finally ventured.

Milanor closed his eyes, sighed, and counted to ten. When he was done, he opened his eyes and shook his head. "Never mind. What did you want me for?"

"Dinner's ready. I got sent to tell you that."

"Right. You can tell 'em I'm not hungry." Milanor waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Enjoy the grub."

"Er… okay." The bandit turned and departed, leaving Milanor to his vigil.

"Something the matter, Master Milanor? You seem distracted."

At the sound of the gentle voice, he looked up. "Ah, Lady Flone." He stood and bowed stiffly. "Been a while."

"Indeed it has." Russell's wife nodded in return. "Milanor, you are certain you don't wish to partake of the evening meal?"

"Maybe later." Milanor shrugged and turned back to the window. "Right now, I just want to be alone, you know?"

Flone sighed and smoothed out her skirt. "Milanor, I know you're still brooding over the death of Kylier, but-"

The silver-haired thief jerked upright, whirling around to face her. "H- how could you tell?" He sputtered.

Flone blinked, surprised. "That's… Milanor, it's written all over you. The way you carry yourself, your behaviour… Didn't anyone else notice?"

"Well, your husband thought I looked a bit out of sorts, but that was about it?" Milanor sighed. "It wasn't as bad back in Yggdra's castle – there was no shortage of crap to mess around with, so my mind was occupied." He had no idea why he was suddenly babbling like this now, it was just that he'd kept it bottled inside for so long, and now that someone had come over who could peer at him and uncover what he'd been hiding inside he didn't see the point in hiding it anymore, that he might as well unburden himself. "But when we came out on this trek I had a lot of free time doing nothing, and I just couldn't stop thinking that maybe if I'd fought better, done _something_, I could've saved her…"

"…" Flone didn't speak for a while, merely resting her arm on Milanor's shoulder, which caused the thief to realize that he was trembling.

"I keep having this dream." He blurted out. "We're at the gates of Flarewerk, and we're getting our asses kicked. Gulcasa's got that Ankh of his, and it's blasting all of us to holy hell. Then Kylier shows up and tells me not to worry, that she'll protect me and that she'll make sure everything will be okay. And then she's flying towards the Ankh and I'm yelling at her to stop, and I'm running as fast as I can, trying to grab her, trying to stop her from killing herself, and suddenly there's this huge flash of light, and… and then I wake up." He finished lamely.

"Kylier's death wasn't your-" Milanor had already raised his finger to interject.

"No. Don't start that. Not now. Don't even try."

"…"

"Look… thanks for hearing me out. But I kinda want to be alone now, okay?" A moment after his outburst, he felt reticent and withdrawn, wanting nothing more than to be left to his ponderings.

The noblewoman bowed slightly. "As you wish," and then she was gone.

* * *

A cool breeze wafted through the single window of the room, providing some relief from the oppressive heat.

"Whoever designed this castle did not know architecture." Azel mumbled to himself as he lay on the thin mattress, trying to catch some sleep. Of course, it was equally probable that the person who'd designed it simply didn't care – comfort was not high on the list of priorities for soldiers of an army, and this philosophy carried through to the army barracks.

Still, he'd gone to sleep in far worse conditions than this – he'd just been involved in a continent-wide war, for crying out loud, so that he currently couldn't sleep probably wasn't due to the stifling conditions of his bunk – even though it obviously wasn't helping matters any.

With a sigh, he sat up on his bed, rubbing his hair wearily. Well, if he couldn't sleep, then he might as well go for a walk.

He'd stayed in Castle Karona before, so he was familiar enough with the layout to quickly make his way to the castle ramparts. A small smile played across his face as he felt the cool breeze caress his face.

The smile vanished as he noticed Elena crouched on the edge of the castle wall, seemingly lost deep in thought.

Just as he was about to consider moving away from that particular location, Elena noticed him. "Oh… Sir Azel…" Hurriedly she clambered off the stone ledge, back onto the floor. "I – I didn't notice you there."

"I just arrived anyway." He said guardedly. "I assume you couldn't get to sleep either, correct?"

She hesitated, before nodding. "Bad dreams again." She managed a crooked smile as she said it.

"A common occurrence?" _It happened the other night too._

Elena's expression became shadowed, and she lowered her gaze. That was all the answer Azel needed.

"About your brother?"

The assassin finally closed her eyes. "Sometimes. But sometimes it's Master Zilva, accusing me of betrayal, executing me for being a traitor… and… and…" She shivered.

The Crimson Rider let out a long, slow sigh. "Leon always spoke of you as being soft-willed. The night he came in and told me his baby sister had made it into Master Zilva's Shadows, he was utterly incredulous. He said he wouldn't believe you could kill someone until he saw it with his own eyes."

"…" The violet haired assassin made no reply.

"I admit that my initial observations of you seemed to bear largely the same results. When we went on our reconnaissance mission to Fantasinia, you were so nervous I thought you were about to suffer a breakdown."

"I… it was my first mission where I was working with people outside the Shadow squad," Elena spoke softly. "I was so afraid that I would mess up, that I would cause our mission to fail…"

"And yet, when the time came for you to do your part, you pulled it off remarkably well. When you had to silence the Fantasinian knight to ensure he wouldn't give away our existence, you did so. You've a wellspring of resolve somewhere in you." Azel continued emotionlessly.

There was another long pause and Elena crossed her arms, hugging herself. Finally, when she spoke, it was in a small voice. "Sir Azel… are you telling me this because you wish to praise me… or because you wish to remind me of what I did and condemn me again for it?"

The Bronquian knight shook his head. "It's just me wondering where this resolve of yours stems from… and how it sustained you when you were facing down Leon. I know it failed you at least once." Try as he might, he failed he keep the venom out of his voice.

"It wasn't like I had any choice." Elena said softly, still trying to keep her emotion in check. "He was completely out of control. And towards the end… he'd… he'd started killing the Fantasinians we took prisoner just for sport."

"I know that. And that gave you the right to play judge and jury with his life?" Azel shrugged. "I don't know how you justified your actions to yourself, but, please, keep them to yourself. I've no interest in hearing what machinations you used to arrive at the conclusion that his death was a noble and righteous thing for you to partake in-"

"He was my _**BROTHER**__!_" Something had obviously snapped deep within Elena, and the torrent of grief and rage and self-loathing exploded from her in the form of a feral cry. "Do you _know_ how many nights I spent trying to find some way, _ANY_ way other than killing him? Do you know how I felt when I finally realized the cold hard truth, that no one else but me seemed to _care_ that my brother had turned into a monster, that no one, not Master Zilva, not the Emperor, none of the Dragon Generals, certainly NOT _you_, was going to offer the slightest help? Do you know what it was like, knowing Leon when he was a kid, when he laughed at jokes and jests and not at pain and suffering and death? Do you know how many nights after killing him where the guilt tore at me so bad it was all I could do not to scream. Do you know what it was like seeing the look in his eyes as I fired the shot that pierced his throat, seeing the blank shock, seeing it fade away into tired emptiness, seeing the way he slumped over slightly on his horse, him finally falling over and… and…" She paused, gasping for breath, and it was only then that she realized that she was crying, her vision blurred over, and she reached a hand to wipe away the tears.

Axel had remained silent throughout the outburst, staring at her, his usual unreadable expression on his face. Suddenly, she felt very, very tired. Shaking her head, she managed to mumble a quick "I – I'm sorry," before she turned and stumbled for her room.

* * *

Achaeus was one of the more reliable time keeping devices in the world, Russell had learnt. Shortly after the griffon has passed into his care, he'd learnt the hard way that Emilia had valued early wakeup calls, and Achaeus saw no reason for his new master to be any different.

Consequently, Russell had the opportunity to witness a sunrise practically every morning. It wasn't much of a bother when he slept alone, but being once more at Castle Karona with Flone at his side, he'd hoped to at least have one morning where he could wake up peacefully, with his wife at his side, before they set out again.

That was not to be. Of course, this time it wasn't Achaeus after all…

"Master Russell!" The servant was obviously in a panicked mood, but decorum would not allow him to enter the bedchambers where his Lord lay in slumber, and so he stood outside.

Roused from his sleep, Russell paused to give Flone a resigned sigh (she responded with an equally resigned smile) before heading over to the servant.

"What is it?" He questioned. _And it had better be good_ was unstated, but nonetheless understood by both parties.

"We've received reports of a massive bandit movement towards the north of here! If unchecked, they'll reached the villages and Tern and Finstown by nightfall today."

Russell resisted the urge to utter a curse. "Mobilize all the men we can spare. Send messengers to nearby garrisons _immediately_ and tell them to stake out for Tern. We march as soon as we can. Move!"

The servant paused to bow only slightly before rushing off. Russell sighed, then turned to another servant standing nearby.

"Rouse Master Milanor, Sir Azel, and Dame Elena. Now."

* * *

In a few minutes time, all available soldiers were assembled. Still a lot less than Russell would have liked, but they didn't have the luxury of mustering a more sizable force.

Elena joined the press of soldiers, unsure of where exactly she should fall in. She was more used to operating amongst the shadows than marching with the main army, and she felt uncomfortable in the presence of so many.

"Elena." The calm voice startled her and she spun to see Azel regarding her. Silently, he indicated that she should fall in behind her, which she did so hesitantly.

She still had no idea what he'd made of her outburst last night. She'd kept it pent up inside her for so long that when it finally came out... She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her cheeks burn from embarrassment. What did she think of her now?

Then she heard Russell's command to move out, and she cleared such thoughts from her mind, as she had been trained to do.

There was a battle to be fought. Personal issues could come later.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review.


	9. Crimson Gaze

The Ties That Bind

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YU PSP coming in September! Yay!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

It was a long journey from Karona to Tern, and it was not helped by the fact that coordinating a large number of soldiers was always a tedious logistical affair.

All in all, Milanor far preferred leading his band of ruffians. Tell 'em to go somewhere, they do. Tell 'em to fight, they would. Loyalty, camaraderie, that sort of thing went a _long_ way on the field.

Still, Milanor had to admit that discipline and order had its place in the world. A fact that was driven home after he had had to send Flunky to break up yet another squabble amongst his men. For the third time. In the past hour.

With a sigh, Milanor drew even with Russell. "So," he ventured, "this village of Tern…"

"Sleepy village with an agricultural bent." Russell replied without changing his view from the horizon. "Practically indistinguishable from the dozens that dot the region. But it's home to a few hundred or so honest, hardworking people, and I'm not letting the bandits take everything from them."

"Yeah, I hear ya," the Silver Wolf smirked. "We've already fought so hard to protect the land from nutjobs like Gulcasa, what's a couple more battles, huh?"

Russell managed a smirk at that statement, although it did not quite reach his eyes. "We should reach there in an hour. Hopefully we'd have arrived ahead of the bandits and then we can set up some sort of perimeter to serve as a defense."

Milanor frowned. "If the thugs catch wind of that, we might end up scaring them away."

"And that's not a good thing?"

"Well, sure, the town's spared – for now. But what happens the next time? What happens when you're not around, when they strike without warning, without time for the knights to mobilize and get there to defend the populace?" Milanor shook his heads. "Bandits are a persistent bunch, by and large."

"Your suggestion, then?" Russell paused. "I assume you have one."

The Silver Wolf paused, a faint smirk appearing on his face. "Well, if it were up to me, here's how I would play it…"

* * *

"I, uh… I'm not sure why you chose to come along." Elena's voice was hesitant.

Flone sighed, a tired smile on her face. "Because Russell… he's been working himself to the bone lately trying to keep things together. I may not be much of a fighter… but going out there, being on hand to take care of the wounded after the battle's done... it's the least I can do. I _do_ have some rudimentary skills as a healer, after all."

Azel tuned out the conversation behind him as the soldiers continued the march. The men were hardy – by the time reached Tern, they should still be fighting fit if the need arose. Which, he supposed, was a good thing, seeing as they were almost there. On that note, he gazed towards the western sky, where the fiery orb of the sun was starting to kiss the tops of the mountains.

_They'll be here by nightfall._

Abruptly his thoughts were broken by the sound of his name being called. He looked up. Russell was standing there, with the Silver Wolf at his side. Nodding his acquiescence, he stepped out of file.

"Elena, you too." Milanor spoke up. "We could use your expertise on this."

Scarcely had they gathered when Milanor opened his mouth again, even as he was walking. "We need to set an ambush."

Azel frowned. "An ambush? Why?"

"Because we want to make sure the bandits today never get to try this again. We go out in full battle array, they're not going to risk – look, trust me, okay? I know how guys like these work."

_You __**are**__ the Silver Wolf, after all…_

"But…" Elena glanced back at the army. "Coordinating an ambush for these guys… it's going to take a lot of effort – and we're short on time."

"I know. We'll have to throw something together fast – our main goal should be to get them deep enough so that they can't just turn tail and run once we've started engaging them. And, really, that's where you come in. You're an assassin, so I thought you'd have some ideas about trickery and cloaking and all that…"

Elena bit her lip as she swept her gaze over the marching soldiers. "Well, here's what I would do…"

* * *

Approximately one hour later, Elena crouched down on the roof of one of the village houses. It was made of straw, like most every other house in the place, but Elena was light enough that she knew the roof could support her weight – as well as accommodate any sudden shifts in position – without caving in.

She shifted her gaze over the town square. To the casual observer, it would've appeared that it was largely deserted, with what few villagers that still remained huddled under rags for warmth, leaning against walls.

All a ruse, of course. The villagers had been evacuated already in the span of minutes – once they'd learnt that the place was about to become a battlefield, no one was too antagonistic. Now a small contingent of soldiers kept watch over that group as they huddled about half a mile south of here. The 'villagers' in the town square were, in actuality, Milanor and his gang, their rags and blankets serving as concealment for their armour and weapons.

Dusk's cloak had fallen upon the land, and as such visibility was severely decreased for most.

Not her, though. Never her. And naturally that was why she was playing lookout.

Even as she shifted her gaze to the location the bandits were supposed to be coming from, her left hand drifted to the palm of her right. She couldn't actually _feel_ the scar, of course – the armoured claw she always wore to combat made that impossible – but she could still remember the day she'd received – no, _earned_ – it.

No surprise she did – it had, after all, changed her life.

Forever.

* * *

"_Elena."_

_Startled out of her reverie by the calm voice of Master Zilva, she jerked upright. "H – here!" She sputtered._

_The silver-haired assassin merely looked at her dispassionately. "It's time. Are you prepared?"_

_Prepared? She felt like she was going to throw up._

"_Yes." She replied, as confidently as she could._

_Master Zilva turned and stepped through the doorway, a slight incline of her head the only indication that she expected Elena to follow her, which she did._

_The rest of the Shadows were already assembled in the courtyard, standing in a tight circle around the stone basin. Master Zilva didn't say anything as she approached them. She didn't need to. A silent signal was heeded, and as one they stepped aside to allow their leader and her apprentice to pass._

_Swallowing nervously, Elena stepped forward to peer into the pool. The water was serene, without the slightest ripple on the still surface._

"_Elena." Zilva held out her hand._

_She knew what to do. Silently, she withdrew the dagger tucked into her belt – the dagger that had been presented to her upon the beginning of her apprenticeship. And now it had come full circle._

_The flat of the dagger gleamed with ancient, unreadable runes, the edge was sharp enough to cut even if it were run gently along the skin, the hilt was waved, allowing for a better grip._

_Each and every Shadow bore one. All unique, masterfully designed pieces of work. Extending her arm, she held it out to Master Zilva, hilt first. That done, she stood in front of the basin, looking at the water and trying not to let her nervousness show._

"_Amua la kareen astos Anon theiru." Zilva said, so softly that it would have been little more than a murmur in the passing wind – had not Elena been trained to pick up the slightest bits of intelligible speech._

"_Look up, initiate." Elena obeyed._

"_What do you see?"_

"_The moon."_

"_What hue is it?"_

"_Silver and white."_

"_Hold out your hand."_

_Simple, short, and to the point. Their ritual reflected their lives as assassins… shadow hunters. Elena held out her hand over the pool of water, palm facing upward._

_Slowly, precisely, Master Zilva reached over with her dagger, and, with elegant precision, began to cut a slow, curving rune across Elena's palm. She let out a tiny hiss as she felt the blade cutting into her skin, but otherwise she remained silent. Stoic._

_The ritual completed, Master Zilva slowly lowered the tip of the bloody dagger into the pool. The formerly crystalline water began to darken, the crimson liquid slowly spreading._

"_AH!" The cry sprang from her mouth as the wound of her palm suddenly seared red-hot. Clenching her fist, she focused, willing the pain to go away._

_Slowly, slowly, the pain abated, leaving only a faint ache. When she finally opened her hand again, the wound had sealed itself completely._

"_Elena." The calm voice of Master Zilva cut through the still air. "Look at the moon."_

_Instinctively, Elena obeyed, shifting her gaze up to stare at the-_

_Elena fell on her butt. It wasn't a rather ungainly thing for someone supposedly trained in the arts of grace and sneaking, but she couldn't help it. For a moment, the shock had completely overridden the use of her body._

"_The… the…" She sputtered. "The moon…"_

_It was red. As red as freshly spilled blood._

_Hesitantly, she passed her hand over her eyes, before glancing back up. Still red._

_Somehow, she got the distinct feeling that she should have been expecting that._

"_Elena." Zilva's voice snapped her back to reality._

_She swallowed and climbed back to her feet. Fine job she'd just did, making a fool of herself in front of the entire squad… and as she risked a quick sideways glance at them, she realized that she could see them now, in so much more detail…_

"_What colour is the moon?"_

"_Bloodred." She answered quickly, managing to keep the stammer out of her voice._

_Zilva closed her eyes and handed the dagger back to Elena._

"_The pact has been made. The Crazed One is bound to you eternally. And for as long as you promise him blood and death on the fields of battle, his power shall be granted to you, his dark rage and strength yours to wield."_

"_Elena of the village of Muir… you are henceforth a Shadow, a creature of darkness. From darkness you were birthed, and to darkness you shall return at the end of all things."_

* * *

She snapped out of her reverie as she caught sight of faint traces of movement in the distance. She narrowed her eyes – she couldn't tell for certain, but…

Yes. Yes, almost definitely the bandits. Grabbing the yellow token she was to use as the signal piece, she flicked her wrist, tossing it towards and empty metal pail that lay, seemingly discarded, at the edge of the square. Perfect shot – the metal piece hit the pail dead-on, creating a clanging noise. The various rags in the area shifted slightly, alerted.

It was obvious that the ragtag bunch approaching Tern didn't have much in the way of discipline – they seemed to assume that sticking together into a singular mass worked well enough.

Silently, Elena shifted her position, notching her crossbow. She was a dark shape amongst the darkness – virtually indistinguishable. Even after she'd started firing, it'd take a precious few seconds for them to locate her.

And every extra second, as far as she was concerned, was another dead bandit.

They were nearing the town's perimeter now – Elena could see the rest of the Karona's army closing in around them in the dark – the bandits had decided to bring along torches for their journey, which allowed the army to locate and find them without lighting of their own. Elena could see Master Russell slowing drawing his blade and signaling his men to advance.

_Don't shoot until the last of them are within the town._ Still, she could start picking out targets. Slowly, she raised her bow.

She paused, waiting, for an eternal instant.

And then she fired.

The feathered shaft had barely appeared on the neck of the bandit in the rear before Elena had already notched her bow and fired again. And again. And again.

The area around them became a roar of confused voices as the bandits wheeled around, staring at the rooftops in a futile attempt to find her.

And then Milanor struck.

* * *

Carving a path through bandits was something Milanor had become very, very familiar with throughout the years – the various turf wars and such notwithstanding, he'd taken on a role as a hunter of said bandits during and after the great war.

As such, he and his band moved with a tight focus. They knew their roles, and they got to it.

The fact that the vast majority of the roles involved swinging axes, screaming really loudly, and general mayhem only helped matters, really.

Milanor saw a bandit who hadn't even bothered to draw his weapon yet, sighed, and leapt at him. Before the stunned thug could yell, raise a weapon, or do anything to defend himself, he was dead.

_Keep moving. Never stay still, never present an easy target._ That mantra thoroughly drummed into him by now, the Silver Wolf continued dispatching foes left and right.

This particular bandit gang was bigger than most, and truth be told, Milanor wouldn't have taken these guys head on if he hadn't known that Russell and Azel would be backing him up.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a roar of voices came from the far end of the group. Milanor's grin grew even fiercer. _Well, speak of the devil…_

Knocking the weapon out of another of his foe's hands, Milanor nailed him in the forehead with a fist, dropping him instantly. Turning, he cast about for another opponent – and instead saw Flunky kneeling on the ground, one hand clutching a torn shoulder.

"Flunky!" Milanor turned to him – knocked out some idiot attempting to clobber him with a hammer – and ran over. "What happened?" He knew Flunky well, he wouldn't let himself be wounded so quickly in the proceedings by such a ragtag group…

In between pained gasps, his friend and second-in-command managed, "They've got… some kind of trained bird… swoops down on you with talons and the beak. You don't see anything, just feel the claws raking you."

"Damn." Milanor cast about the night sky. He'd have to find Elena and get her to shoot that blasted thing out of the sky. "All right, fall back and find someplace safe to tend to-"

"Oh, c'mon, Boss! I can still fight, it's not as bad as it-"

"The hell it isn't!" Milanor pointed to a tiny dribble of dark liquid running down Flunky's shoulder. "They're not sending out a messenger pigeon for shits and giggles – it's claws have got some sort of poison on it, and you're going to find someplace and quaff every antidote we've got in stock. NOW!"

Flunky gave a resigned nod and headed off, leaving Milanor enough time to turn around and body-check the idiot that had been attempting to charge him. Leaving that particular bandit lying in the dust, Milanor continued wading into the melee.

_Elena's on the roof right over there… I think._ Sometimes her skills at stealth were a little _too_ good for his liking. With a sigh, the Silver Wolf continued.

* * *

Elena threw herself into a forward roll, sweeping her claw up in an arc as she came within striking range of the enemy bandit. Another one down.

She'd been discovered quickly – a bit too quickly for her liking, but in the end she'd done her job. Now she was simply using her superior speed and agility to avoid any strikes aimed at her, while simultaneously trying to bring down as many of the brutes as she could.

As she was about to fire her bow, a flash of red caught her eye. _Azel?_

The Crimson Rider was quickly and efficiently dispatching foes, fighting with…

_With nearly the same style as Leon did._ Hardly surprising, they _did_ train together…

Just then a dark shape darted past Azel's neck, and the knight staggered back, one hand instinctively going to the dark lines that had appeared on his neck.

_A… bird?_ Quickly shifting her aim, Elena narrowed her eyes and loosed her bolt. A short squawk, and the avian began its tumble to the ground. There, the matter was settled.

Glancing over to make sure Azel was all right, her eyes widened as she caught sight of a bandit raising his axe, about to bring it down on the knight's back. Distracted by the wound, the knight had failed to notice the threat.

Elena was barely aware of her body bursting into movement, running as fast as she could for the bandit. Even as she did, the world around her began to blur, the vision sharpening its focus until there was only her and her target.

And then she could _see_.

She could see his heart, pumping in a steady, frantic rhythm as adrenaline surged through it. She could see his blood vessels, sending the life-giving fluid through ever corner of his body. She could see the artery at his neck, so close to the surface, so very vulnerable.

And then the world around her shifted back into focus, and Elena was standing there, gasping for breath, staring down at the body in front of her… and at her clawed hand, utterly drenched in blood.

Turning, she caught sight of Azel staring at her, an unreadable expression on her face. Biting her lip, she was about to return to the battle when suddenly his expression tightened, his stance shifted, bringing his weapon up… the sharp end of his lance pointed straight at her.

And then Elena felt a rough impact on her shoulder as she was shoved to the ground, and something struck her head with incredible force, and the world fell away.

* * *

"Master Roswell!"

"Ah, Temas." Roswell smiled at his aide. "You've brought all the requested materials?"

His harried servant sighed and nodded. "Yes, yes, as well as the acolytes you requested." He paused. "I really don't think dragging so much manpower away from the Verlaine Hills is a good idea…"

Roswell sighed. "The incantation should be finished by tomorrow latest, and we can head back again – we'll be back in Verlaine Hills before the week is out – although I _do_ plan on going to Castle Fantasinia to aid Yggdra in several of her projects afterwards. Please, Temas, you worry too much."

The servant sighed and relented. "As you will, milord."

Roswell paused, turning to face an elaborate gilded coffin being brought out from the cart.

_Just wait a little longer, Rosary. Then everything will be ready. And… you'll be back with us again._

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review.


	10. Unveiled

The Ties That Bind

* * *

So who's getting YU PSP? I know I am. Hope I like Elena's voice…

I also kinda don't want to update _too_ fast because I want to know exactly what Bly and Mistel are doing, and whether or not it could affect my plot.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Unh… where?"

At the soft words from the assassin, Azel glanced over to the bed beside him. Elena stirred slightly for a second before her eyes snapped open, her body tensing.

"You're awake." He voice was drained of all emotion as he spoke. "To answer your earlier question, we are currently in Castle Karona, and it is midday."

Elena paused for a long while. "Then we won?"

"I suppose. That particular band won't be troubling anyone from now on."

Elena sat upright and shook her head. "Uh… the last thing I remember was… killing that bandit that tried to ambush you. And then…" She frowned. "You… pointed your spear at me… or in my general direction."

"Yes," Azel remarked dryly, "As it so happened, there was another of the brigands attempting to ambush _you_. I'm uncertain why you weren't able to detect him… but there was no harm done aside from you getting knocked on the head rather roughly. Lady Flone decided that it prudent that we get you treatment at the best possible location – which would naturally be the castle."

"Oh, okay." Elena sat up in bed, brows furrowed in deep thought for several seconds, then she straightened up, blinked, and looked to Azel. "Does that… were you the one who saved me?"

The Crimson Rider sighed and nodded. "I was the one who killed the bandit attacking you, yes."

The young assassin managed a weak smile in Azel's direction. "Then… th – thanks for saving me."

A frown creased Azel's features. "Don't. You saved me before that – just consider it a favour repaid."

Elena sighed and rubbed her head, still feeling a slight ache as her fingers brushed across the small but noticeable bump where she had struck herself. It was probably going to form a lovely bruise later on.

"No," she shook her head. "A good deed's a good deed, whether or not you did it to 'repay' me or something. I _want_ to thank you. Also… well… you've been sitting here waiting for me to wake up, haven't you?"

The knight gave a noncommittal grunt. "Lady Flone recommended that someone be here to watch over you until you woke up. I overexerted myself during the fight – or at least that's what they told me – so it wasn't much of a decision at all."

Elena nodded once and looked up. "So, uh… what's next?"

"Next?" Azel echoed? "Next, we rest. We recuperate, and when we're ready we set out for the 5th Cavalry." That saying, he stood and began to walk out the doorway. "Anyway, I've to go tell Lady Flone that you've awakened."

The assassin sank back onto her bed and closed her eyes. Sleep _did_ sound good right about now…

"Elena."

She opened her eyes and looked back to the doorway, where Azel was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yes?"

There was a long pause, and the Crimson Rider nodded once.

"You did well. Good work."

And then he was gone.

* * *

"Hiya, Flunky." Milanor greeted nonchalantly as he pushed the door to their bunk open. "How's the wound?"

"'Sfine, boss! I _told_ you you shoulda just let me stay there and fight!"

The Silver Wolf rolled his eyes and flopped down onto the nearby bed. "Yeah, well, if it's fighting you want so badly, you're going to have plenty of it in the next couple months."

"Yeah, about that, boss. Why'd we need to go all the way out to the border just to beat up on bandits? They're still plenty of 'em in the central areas."

"Yeah, and so far that's where we've been working all this time. So if we go out to the borders the bandits _there_ won't be expecting us, and we'll be able to hit 'em hard and fast."

"Oh… hey, yeah! You're smart, boss!"

Milanor raised one shoulder up and down. "Yeah, that's what they all tell me. Now leave me alone for a while, would ya? I've got a headache and I need a nap."

"Sure thing."

Milanor rolled over and sighed. He hadn't yet told any of his men the real reason they were all going to the 5th Cavalry's garrison, and he suspected that particular secret would be kept for quite some time yet. He honestly didn't feel very comfortable lying to his men – as a rule, his men had to trust him as much as he trusted them, and that pretty much meant that Milanor kept his intentions and goals plain.

Not that it could be argued, from a purely logical standpoint, that telling them was going to do any good. The 5th Cavalry couldn't suspect too much or things would get hairier than they already were, so the less people who knew about the plan the better.

But that didn't mean it grated on him any less.

Milanor shook his head, rolled over, and tried to catch some much needed sleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, halfway across the continent, Roswell stepped back with a nod of satisfaction. The magic runes had all been drawn, the invocative candles had been lit…

"We're ready." Roswell finally said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. Having Rosary back would be good enough, especially now that they no longer had any reason to fight over the silly ankh business, but if he succeeded in this… it would be a validation of his path as a necromancer – a mastery over death that no mortal had ever wielded before.

"Master Roswell?"

"Ah, Temas. I believe we can begin as soon as you bring the coffin in."

"Very well."

_Are you watching, Rosary? You'll be back soon… very soon._

As the heavy stone chest was placed on the centre of the ceremonial dais, Roswell nodded slowly. He'd elected not to open the coffin because, well, he'd seen her remains shortly after the Royal Army had killed her and it hadn't been a pleasant sight. The decomposition would only make it worse and –

He shook his head. He had to focus. Around him, his men were already taking up their positions, preparing to aid him in augmenting the power of the spell.

Closing his eyes, he began the incantation. Reaching out with magic, he felt the connection to the Transmigragem, the Ankh shards, the carefully arrayed artifacts he'd brought with him – felt them begin to resonate.

"… nmeo tesli astornalha…"

Continuing the spell for several long seconds, Roswell finally reached a moment, a peak, a single instant where the gathered energies were at their apex – and he sent the full force of the spell into the still form he knew lay within the coffin.

"NGH!"

The resulting power feedback forced Roswell to his knees, energy draining from his body at an astonishingly rapid rate. Forcing his eyes open, Roswell saw several of his servants breaking their formation, moving over to him.

"N - no! Hold your place!" Roswell blurted out. "Maintain the matrix! The spell… _will_ be completed!" He noted with grim satisfaction that the mages slowly stepped back into their original positions, strengthening the spell.

And now there was nothing left to do but to endure, to wait until the spell was completed. Screwing his eyes shut and gasping for breath, Roswell endured.

And then finally, finally, the chaotic whirlwind of energy began to subside. Collapsing on all fours, face dripping with sweat, Roswell lifted his head up weakly. "Open the coffin."

He had to know. He had to see for himself.

Slowly, painfully, he pulled himself over the marble tiling, reaching out with one hand to grasp the stone edge. Pausing for yet another moment to gather his breath, he pulled himself up to look inside.

Rosary lay there, skin as pristine and perfect as the day she was born. No wounds marred her features, no blood stained her clothes. And even as he watched, her eyes began to flutter.

"Rosary…" He breathed.

Her eyes opened, and she shifted her gaze, enough that she was now looking him in the eye.

"…Roswell."

He managed a nod. "Yes. It's me. You're back."

And then she slapped him. Hard.

Roswell was stunned into complete inaction for several seconds as he felt the smarting pain on his cheek. Finally, his mind clicked into gear enough for him to say, "That wasn't the response I had in mind."

And then Rosary slapped him again.

* * *

Chapter End.

* * *

Short chapter that serves mainly as a bridge to further plot points. Next chapter should be where things get more interesting.

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	11. The More Things Change

The Ties That Bind

* * *

What's this? A _fast_ update? From _me_? Gasp, shock, horror etc.

Yeah, I wanted to make up for the fact that my last chapter was so cripplingly short. Add to that the fact that I'm cutting out one of the scenes (out of four…) from the previous chapter simply because it doesn't fit in with the current character development, and it's gotten even shorter retroactively. Nertz.

_Hopefully_ this chapter's a good bit longer. And as always, I hope that what I write here entertains those reading. (For the right reasons. Them falling over laughing at my work would also technically count as 'entertainment', but not in the sense I'd like.)

Oh, yeah. YU PSP is great fun. Also, I'm stuck in the strange position of thinking the localized NA voices actually sound more fitting for their characters than the original Japanese voices. (With the notable exception of Rosary. She sounds like some teenage ditzy... brat… girl… _thing_. Ick.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

Nietzsche didn't like it when people argued. It was pretty loud and confusing and people acted mean to each other and sometimes it got nasty and people got hurt. And when it got _really_ nasty it could end up in those really big wars and fights that Nietzsche had participated in not too long ago.

That was why Nietzsche was understandably distressed to see Roswell walk out of the Aqua Palace having a heated argument with a woman – a woman that seemed vaguely familiar to Nietzsche…

"... and of course it didn't _occur_ to you, at any one point in time, that maybe I _liked_ being dead? Just so you know, Heaven is a _very_ nice place, with quite a lot of the things that I enjoy doing taking place there, it's all very relaxing and such. Of course you wouldn't have the slightest idea how much dragging me back down here pisses me off and –" Here the rose-eyed woman broke off, breathing heavily. "Oh, for – I'd forgotten how easily bodies run out of breath."

The Necromancer took advantage of this brief gap in her speech to reply. "As I recall, Lady Yggdra recounted that she fought you in the Holy Land – and you didn't seem particularly happy there. Further, you kept…" Then he broke off, shaking his head.

"Kept _what_?" The woman crossed her arms, glaring suspiciously at Roswell.

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Well, whatever this '_nothing'_ was, it was important enough for you to half-kill yourself trying to bring me back down here, and since it _directly_ involves my current state of well-being, I'd like to hear it."

Roswell sighed and looked away. "I had nightmares, Rosary. Nightmares more real and vivid than anything I've ever had before. In it, you were there. Pleading, demanding me to bring you back… that I was the only one who could do it. They just… wouldn't _stop_. I just kept getting reminded of how it was pure chance that I survived and you died, that how it could just as easily have been me getting stormed in my manor… Of how the whole reason we were fighting in the first place was because of just plain, stupid _selfishness_, and…" He closed his eyes. "I thought… I thought this would be the only way to make amends."

"Hmph. So this was to satisfy your own guilty conscience." Rosary rolled her eyes, but the edge in her voice had softened. "Typical Roswell." She turned away, looking out over the water capital of Elise. "Well, you succeeded. I'm back. Now what?"

The wizard sighed. "Well, seeing as how a large portion of the continent's a wreck – by the way, were you able to see how things were going down here while you were… um, up there?"

"Yes, but… well, for some reason, what was going on here didn't seem quite so important up there..." A frown appeared on Rosary's face. "Drat. I'm already forgetting everything that occurred in Heaven. They told me this would happen…"

"…Ah, anyway, as I was saying, the land's absolutely devastated after the war – I was planning to offer my services to Lady Yggdra. I was wondering… if you'd come along too."

The lady rolled her eyes again – she seemed to like doing that a lot, Nietzsche thought. "Oh, I'm certain that it'd be a wonderful meeting. Hello there, your Majesty. I'm that witch you killed in dispute involving the Ankhs, remember?"

Roswell chuckled, and Nietzsche blinked. She didn't expect such a mirthful sound to come from the brooding mage. "Queen Yggdra is not the sort to dwell on such matters. We _do_ share some of the responsibility for the state of the land – the Ankhs… they were used to defend the gates of Flarewerk."

"And ended up destroying a good portion of city in the end." Rosary nodded. "Yes, I remember watching that." Flipping some of her hair back over her shoulder, she turned to face Roswell. "I trust you were competent enough to keep the entirety of the Verlaine Hills running smoothly in my absence, hm?"

"More or less." The Necromancer was already turning and walking down the curved path that led to the lower levels – for obvious reasons, the Aqua Palace did not have stairs. "I've already talked to the Undines about preparing some of the local cuisine for the evening meal – I hope you like seafood. Of course it's probably not going to be anywhere near as good as the food you've partaken of in heaven, but as you just said, you can't remember it anymore, so it shouldn't be much of an issue…"

And with that, both masters of sorcery left.

* * *

Milanor was good at fighting in scorched, parched areas strewn with all sorts of rocky outcroppings and treacherous footing and all that sort of thing. Heck, he was a bandit, he was better at those places than most any other location.

For all that he was skilled at that sort of terrain, it was a drastically different experience when the terrain had literally been created not five minutes ago.

A single blast – a **single** shot from the Twin Ankhs had scorched the entirety of the land ahead of them away, leaving nothing but charred, blackened ash ahead of them. The Imperial Army's intent had been to demonstrate the destructive potential of the Ankhs, and in that they succeeded. The sheer power of the weapon was insane.

Not half as insane, of course, as the simple fact that they were going to charge straight at it.

There was simply no other way. The Silver Wolf looked to Yggdra, her face pale but her expression resolute. With a single sweeping motion, her weapon was now pointed straight at the very top of the battlements of Flarewerk, where the hazy form of the Blazing Emperor could still be made out, staring down at them.

Even as Yggdra opened her mouth, Milanor could tell what she was going to say. Uttered countless times across countless battlefields, a rallying cry that the thief wasn't sure even Yggdra believed in anymore… but it was symbolic of what they fought for, regardless.

"Justice lies with the Holy Sword! CHARGE!"

And they were off, charging across a barren landscape with absolutely no cover, straight towards the lines of the Gulcasa's elite legions. The fish in the proverbial barrel, some might say.

Apparently whoever was in charge of the Ankh wanted to have some fun with the beleaguered Royal Army, for instead of another massive sphere of destruction, what rained down upon them this time were countless beams of pure light, burning away soldiers to ash as they fit. One knight slightly ahead and to the left of Milanor had the time to half-turn away, which meant the thief got an excellent view of the doomed soldier's agonized face as his body crumbled away to dust.

Forcing the gruesome image from his mind, Milanor continued their doomed, desperate charge. Once he reached the enemy troops, they'd be safe. Gulcasa wouldn't order them to fire on his own troops… he hoped.

Then the sadistic bastard manning the Ankhs changed tacks yet again, now with pillars of light making sweeping runs across the entire field, further decimating their troops.

"We're getting slaughtered out here…" He muttered to herself. "We need a miracle."

And then the miracle occurred.

"Milanor!" The cry was faint but unmistakeable.

The silver-haired thief glanced up. "Kylier?" He sputtered. He could see the Al wheeling about in the sky. A moment later she wheeled in, face shining with concern.

"You came back!"

"Yeah, forget that. What the heck's going on – what's that _thing_?"

"Those Ankhs? They're some sort of magic crystal thingy – I don't know, ask Roswell. Point is, as long as it's up and running, we don't have a hope in hell of breaking through." Milanor wasn't really paying much attention to the conversation, his primary focus on sidestepping loose rock as he continued ever closer to the massive obsidian gates – Al could keep up with him without even trying.

"Oh… that's it, huh?" Kylier's voice carried an odd note to it, something that would have made Milanor swivel his head to stare at her under normal circumstances. As it was, a pillar of light passed so close to them Milanor could _swear_ some of his skin had crisped, and he only heard the words as an afterthought.

And then Kylier spoke again.

"Don't worry, Mil. I'll deal with the Ankhs. Just… promise me you won't die, okay? Promise me you'll live… that you'll be happy." _This_ was jarring enough for Milanor to look over his shoulder at her – and nearly trip over a loose rock in the process.

"Kylier, what are you – KYLIER!" Even as he spoke the griffon rider was wheeling away, soaring up towards the glowing weapon.

And then Milanor found that he had changed course, that his legs were pumping frantically, that he was running faster, faster than he had ever ran before, but it wasn't fast enough, it just wasn't _good_ enough, and he couldn't catch up with the winged beast.

"KYLIER, **STOP**!" He didn't know why, he didn't know what was going to happen, but he couldn't shake this awful, _awful_ feeling in his gut that grew exponentially the closer the Vanir flew to the Twin Ankhs.

And then a sharp crackling sound, and pure light blazed out from where the Ankhs were – had been – and the force of the explosion was so great that the entire Royal Army was blown backwards, sent tumbling head over heels and thick clouds of dust were thrown up all over the place, so that Milanor couldn't see Kylier, couldn't see where she went, couldn't see if she was all right.

And then Milanor opened his eyes – blinked.

He was back in Castle Karona, back in the room assigned to him. Based on the view outside his window, it was evening now.

"Sheez, how long was I out?" The thief muttered to himself as he clambered out of bed. Striding over to the door, he yanked it open.

"Anything's better than sticking around and being forced to think about her…" The thief muttered under his breath. It was nearly dinnertime, and Milanor felt sufficiently famished to go join the others for their food.

Rounding the corner, he caught sight of Azel walking ahead, a small frown on his face. Shrugging, the Silver Wolf called his name as he increased his pace to catch up with the Bronquian.

"Hm? Oh. Well met, Sir Milanor."

"Man, you're formal." Milanor grinned slightly. "Anyway, you holding up well? Flone said that you'd pushed yourself a bit much in that last fight, especially since you haven't recovered one hundred percent yet."

"I'm fine. Even Flone said as much. She said I just needed a bit more rest."

The thief nodded at this. "Great. Oh, yeah, how was Elena? You were looking after her, right?"

"Yes, I was. She woke up after the fight, and went back to sleep at my urging. For all I know, she's still in her room."

"Yeah…" Milanor paused. Tact was not high on the priority list of skills for a bandit, and as such Milanor usually had no idea how to bring up potentially awkward conversations with others. Usually he went to Yggdra about it, since she wasn't the type to get overly upset about whatever it was Milanor was talking about, and then she could go deal with the issue using the… um, social graces she had picked up as a young monarch. Obviously it wasn't in the cards _now_…

Milanor sighed. "Look, there's something I want to ask you. You… uh, you've got a bone to pick with Elena or something?"

He saw Azel's face immediately go blank. "What's it to you?" Came the soft reply.

"Well, let's just say that she's come through for us a whole lot, _and_ she's a pretty nice girl, to boot. She was never very good at hiding her feelings, and it's pretty clear that she gets down in the dumps whenever you're dealing with her."

"…" Azel didn't reply for a while. "Do you believe, then, that I, as nominal commander of this group, am dealing with her unfairly?"

"No, but I think that you, as a person, are making someone else feel like she's a sack of crap. I don't need technical word games where you can go act polite around her while letting her know your contempt for her at the same time."

"No, I've spelt it out quite clearly to her that I hate her. She betrayed her own country-"

"So did Russell – no one's treating _him_ like he's swampwater scum. In fact, wanna guess who's been charged with the jurisdiction of the entire northern region of Fantasinia? And I've seen you talking to him in a rather respectful manner, if I say so myself."

"Sir Russell had his reasons-"

"Oh, and Elena didn't?" Milanor let out a snort. "Like, I don't know, maybe the fact that you Imperial blowhards were acting like a humongous bunch of assholes? Want me to tell you about that nice little incident in the Verlaine Hills where you played the Black and White Roses for fools and made off with their Ankhs? How about not bothering to set up any sort of worthwhile peacekeeping force in Fantasinia after having overthrown the country so that now we're up to our asses in bandit raids? Or, oh yeah, intending to sacrifice Yggdra so you could awaken a giant dragon that'd come out and burn everything to a crisp is pretty big dick move too." He paused. "You wanna talk about patriotism and crap, fine. Hell, all I was fighting for at first was so I could get my grubby paws on Yggdra's castle, since she promised it to me. But Elena's the sort of person who decided that she wanted to fight for the side she could believe was doing the right thing – and _damned_ if that's not something worth respecting."

Azel was silent for a long moment. Then wordlessly, he cut left, heading away from the dining hall, leaving Milanor alone. With a sigh and a shrug, the Silver Wolf continued on his way.

* * *

It was funny, Elena mused, how often it was that you could remember seemingly mundane things and details about others, letting it shape your perception of them.

And so even know, as she lay back in her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind was back to the days of the war, back when life seemed to be one special mission, one assassination, one support force after another.

Like that one particular incident back in the Verlaine Hills campaign…

_She's been sitting on a crate, silently adjusting and cleaning her cross bow when she saw Russell enter the camp, his face a black mask._

"_Where's Leon?" He questioned to the first soldier within earshot. Elena frowned at this. Being of the same rank as the Black Knight, Sir Russell technically did not have to address Leon with an honorific, but he always did so nonetheless. If he hadn't, he must be extremely upset over something…_

_The pondering was broken as Leon emerged from one of the tents, a bored expression on his face. "Yeah, what's up?" He snapped. "Did you find some info on the White Witch's weaknesses in her forti-"_

"_Leon, you led an attack on the White Rose's domain?" Russell questioned softly. To most others, their conversation would have been nigh unintelligible, but, well, Shadow enhanced hearing and all that. Elena kept her head low and continued paying attention._

"_Yeah, what's it to you? That Roswell guy's a real dope. Didn't even think to question why the Empire would want to help his scrawny little ass-"_

"_Leon, you sent your men in __**knowing**__ that they'd be slaughtered! I submitted a full report on just how devastating the power of the Ankh was – and I know you read it. Rosary had one of her own!"_

"_Aw, heck." Leon shrugged. "Yeah, some of my men got fried. Still wouldn't have lost in the end if it weren't for Yggdra and her goons. Guess she just likes playing both sides of the field, huh?"_

_Russell was obviously trying to keep his temper in check. "Leon. Why did you order your men in on an attack that you knew was going to be all-but suicidal? I ordered an immediate withdrawal from the Black Rose area as soon as I saw what that Ankh could do, and I __**still**__ suffered heavy casualties. Nearly a third of your forces were lost!"_

"_Dunno," he shrugged. "Guess I was bored. Wanted a bit of action."_

"_Bored? __**BORED**__? Do the deaths of your men mean so __**little**__ to you? Are you mad?"_

"_Do the deaths of __**your**__ men mean so __**much**__ to you? Are you weak?" The Black Knight shot back. "I think that's why you Fantasinians lost, you know. You're all alike. The whole spineless, pale, pathetic lot of you. You're also questioning, doubting yourself, trying to figure out some contrived and convoluted plan that'll get you to lose the least amount of men. Well, guess what, weakling – that's not how the Bronquian's do things! We know we'll send soldiers through meatgrinders, and so we train 'em for it. Stick that in your pipe and smoke on it for a while." And Leon brushed past – fairly shoved – Russell and continued on his way, without a care in the world._

Even as she replayed the scene in her mind, Elena still shuddered slightly at it. At how cruel, how _cold_ Leon could become. _Why? When?_ She still questioned herself. _How did it all go wrong?_

Just then, there was a soft knock on her door. Sitting upright, she turned to face it. "Come in."

The door swung open, and the Astral Fencer stepped in.

"Sir Russell?" She questioned softly.

The knight sighed, looked out the doorway for a moment, and looked back to her.

"The evening meal is ready. Are you hungry?"

'Well… yes." She admitted. She hadn't eaten since hastily consuming some travel rations yesterday on their march to Tern. Clambering out of bed, she stretched her limbs gingerly, feeling for any aches or tugs.

As they left the room, the two of them nearly bumped into Azel who was just rounding the corridor.

"Oh… Elena." Something in the way he said it made her frown. It was… different from the way he usually spoke her name, full on barely concealed anger and contempt. There was a look in his eyes she couldn't read well, and… well, he just seemed _different_.

Sir Russell, however, did not appear to detect much of an issue. "Sir Azel? Are you going to dinner?"

The crimson knight shook his head. "Not just yet, no. Why don't you go on ahead without me?"

And before either of them could say a word to stop him, he continued down along the corridor.

* * *

The next day…

"Roswell?" Rosary stepped through the various archways of the aqua palace, a cross look on her face. Where _was_ that man? "Roswell, we're all ready to move out, where are-"

Then she entered one of the studies and nearly cried out in exasperation.

"Roswell!"

For the necromancer was sitting at his desk, head buried in a book, a frown etched on his face as he flipped through the tome. At her shout, he lifted her head. "Oh, Rosary. I've just been looking back over the spell components, and I can't figure out what's wrong."

"What's wrong?" She echoed. "I'm back. That's a success, isn't it? It's what you were trying to do."

"Well, yes, but…" He turned back to the book. "The energy demand was nearly three times more than I had anticipated. It's puzzling – I can't find any explanation why…"

"Well, maybe the powers that be considered me worth three times an ordinary person so they charged you three times as much." Rosary snarked. "Roswell, don't tell me you've spent all night puzzling over something like this and forgot to pack your things."

"Um…" The mage hesitated, which was really all Rosary needed to know.

"You. Haven't. Changed. A bit." Rosary ground out. Turning, she beckoned a couple of attendants. "Head to Roswell's chambers and stuff everything into bags. Move it," before giving another exasperated sigh and stalking out of the room.

Roswell looked out the room at her departing figure, a wry smile on his face. "Neither have you, apparently." He said to the empty room.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

For anyone who cares, the scene deleted from chapter 10 is the 3rd scene.

Thanks for reading, please review.


	12. Deep Breath Before the Plunge

The Ties That Bind

* * *

A really long string of crap involving stuff like a waterlogged keyboard and a crashed hard drive.

**THAT'S WHY.**

Useful notes: Based on morale recovery, Elena is in fact that third most pious member of the army, right behind Gordon and Yggdra.

Also based on Morale Recovery, Elena either has the widest range of interests in the entire army or has terrible self-esteem and gets a morale boost whenever someone gives her just about anything. I'm betting the latter.

Also after paying closer attention to the world map in the PSP version (the GBA version resolution was too atrocious for me to catch anything), I've realized that all my distances and mental maps are completely out of whack. Nuts.

Lastly, Gordon is canonically supposed to have died defending the bridge during the chapter where Gulcasa and company show up to ambush him. He gets a 'Slain' cut with a unique line. For that reason I'm scrapping all references I was going to make to Gordon in this story. The Meriant religion structure is, for all intents and purposes, a headless chicken right now.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Elena woke up.

There was no immediately apparent reason for her waking up, which only served to snap all her senses onto high alert. Growing up an assassin had left her internal clock more fine-tuned than most, and with the unshakeable conviction that one should really be grabbing as much rest as was humanly possible when faced with the sort of duties she regularly engaged in.

Her eyes darted around, catching a quick glimpse of the almost-full moon flooding the room with a soft silver glow. It would be very pretty if she had the time to pay attention to her surroundings, she was sure, but now was not the-

A presence. Movement. Behind her.

In a moment, she had drawn her dagger, leaping and whirling around to -

Azel reached out and caught her arm at the wrist. "You tense when you wake up. It's rather hard not to notice. Especially in this light."

Elena frowned and pulled away, tucking her weapon back into her belt. "You should have said something." She mumbled.

"I was about to." He shrugged and for a moment a flicker of apprehension crossed his face. "Anyway, get your things ready. We're moving out within the hour."

"The hour? But – what's going on, Azel?"

The red-haired warrior sighed and looked away. "Approximately ten minutes ago, a runner reached us from Castle Paltina," he paused at that point, obviously whatever was about to come next wasn't going to be pleasant. "Open revolt has been declared near the Fantasinia – Bronquia border by insurgents. Apparently, they've taken Fortress Ishnad and are using it as their main staging point."

Elena stood there for a timeless moment, her mind unable – _refusing_ – to accept the truth. Revolt? Now? The fractured, shattered land forced once more into the bloody grind of prolonged conflict…

Then, from deeper within her, ingrained patterns of discipline began to reassert themselves. The situation they were in now was terrible and vast, but she was a soldier – she would do what she was supposed to do, what she _could_ do, and the rest could be left to God alone. Turning, she quickly reached for her cross bow, tucked onto the covers of her bed. Her combat uniform was unwieldy and meant to be worn to bed – after buckling on her belts, breastplate, she quickly wrapped a swathe of her scarf around her and nodded to Azel.

"I'm ready. Are we moving out with the main army or-"

"No. We continue on with our previous mission – minus Sir Russell, since he needs to coordinate the soldiers in Karona. We need to investigate the Fifth and determine if they're loyal or not. Our mission's more important than ever."

"Understood." Elena nodded.

"I'll rendezvous with you at the courtyard. Milanor's getting his band ready – it'll take some time." Thus saying, Azel quickly departed.

As Elena headed for the door, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that something about their conversation hadn't been right…

Then it hit her. The conversation hadn't been _wrong_. The barely suppressed contempt, always simmering below the surface whenever Azel spoke to her just… hadn't been there. Not noticeably, at any rate.

Elena's mouth twitched. If his opinion of her really _was_ looking up, then, well, that'd be more than she could hope for really. The situation was especially tense right now, he was just probably more focused on the situation at hand.

The thoughts still buzzing in her mind, Elena quickly headed out to the courtyard.

* * *

Yggdra sighed to herself and tried to keep an upbeat (or at least a neutral) expression on her face as she stared down at the rows of nobles lining the gallery. Truth be told, she'd have far preferred simply sending out the relevant instructions to the people who were actually in a position to affect the proceedings, but an issue of this magnitude all but demanded that the council of nobles convened.

Which meant that far too much time would be wasted simply outlining the situation and bringing the nobles up to speed. Not a task she'd have relished under the most pleasant of situations, which this was manifestly _not_. It was not made any easier, of course, by the fact that many of them tended to view her as a naïve, idealistic upstart.

With an inner sigh, she cleared her throat expectantly, and a hush fell across the room. Well, they were still willing to pay her lip-service, at least. That was something. Not much, but something.

"As you all know by now," she began. "There has been a revolt declared by elements of the Bronquian army. The extent of their goodwill and sympathy amongst the citizens of Bronquia are currently unknown, but I don't intend to leave anything to chance. Now, with your approval," Most of them were being quiet so far. Good. Maybe she'd have a chance to get this over with as quickly as possible… "I'd like to detail-"

"One moment, please, your Highness." Yggdra resisted the urge to frown and nodded. "The chair recognizes Senator Stephan."

"Have you properly considered the possibility that part of Fantasinia's army might have elected to throw their lot in with the rebels? That might have drastic effect on morale-"

"Yes, I have." Yggdra said simply, cutting him off midspeech. "However, my tactical advisors have assured me that such an occurrence is unlikely."

"Are you certain, your Highness? Because I've received reports indicating the possibility that certain members of our forward units are engaged in several unsavoury activities."

Yggdra resisted her urge to rub her forehead. A little knowledge was a very, very dangerous thing indeed.

"Yes, I've received reports to that effect as well," she conceded. "However, we've also found no link between those reports and these new ones. _If_ that changes, then we will take the necessary steps to safeguard morale and prevent further desertions. However, as it stands, we must place our primary focus on the insurrection in Bronquia. Am I clear on this?"

Stephan conceded the point and settled back in his chair.

"As I was saying, I have decided to mobilize the Fantasinian 3rd Army, with Sir Durant heading the charge. He will receive autonomy in all military related matters."

"Sir Durant? Your Highness, is he not merely a Captain?"

"He also proved himself a dozen times over during the War of Unification," - the term seemed to her like a bad joke now, really. "And has repeatedly shown the ability to inspire loyalty and courage in his men. He remains a Captain because of his close relations with the rest of his squad which he does not wish to lose. And if rank is truly such an issue, then we can brevet him up to Colonel before he sets out."

That particular issue was smoothed over, for now at least, but there was no shortage of queries, some relevant and insightful – but something the tacticians and strategists would have noted and accounted for long ago, other utterly inane and useless.

And so it was that it was nearly time for lunch before Yggdra was able to dismiss the courtiers, nursing a headache that was growing at an uncomfortably large speed.

As she stepped away into the relative privacy of her own chambers, a presence materialized itself at her side. "You summoned me, your Highness?"

"Yes," Yggdra drew an envelope from the folds of her robe and passed it to her. "You've already been briefed on what you need to do, correct?"

The messenger nodded. "I won't let you down."

"Glad to hear it." And with that, Yggdra walked away, her brain still buzzing with a thousand things that had to be done.

* * *

"Right, you lot." Milanor glanced over his men, noting that most of them appeared to be rather sullen. Well, he could hardly blame them – the latest news had put a damper on everyone's mood, and unlike the soldiers, the bandits he led were a lot more used to openly expressing their feelings. With a shrug, he nodded to them. "We're moving out."

It was still dark out, but the moon was bright enough that they could continue walking without tripping over every twig and pebble on the path. Good thing too, as not all of them had Elena's preternatural night-vision.

He could see more and more lights around the castle blazing up, its inhabitants – or at least those of them in a position to actually do something – coming to the realization that something large was indeed up, something that would require them being roused from slumber in the dead of the night. Russell was going to have his hands full, that was for sure.

Life in the wilderness had toughened him and his band of scoundrels, to say nothing of the war, and thus Milanor didn't find much difficulty in setting off on the trek. Given that the other members of their expedition were also hardened veterans, they were able to make good time.

As he watched Azel plodding on at the back of the formation, silent and stoic as always, Milanor silently wondered about where the red-haired soldier's loyalties lay. Obviously being paranoid wasn't the best way to live your life (although of course some would argue it put you in the best stead to continue living at all), but the knight really hadn't done anything to get Milanor to trust him – certainly not on the level of putting an arrow through the eye of an enemy commander.

On that note, he turned to watch the front, where Elena had taken point and was walking along, her steps fast and light. She kept glancing around her, as if she half expected the insurgents to leap out at her from the darkness, ambushing the lot of them.

Of course, given the way things were in the world these days, it wasn't that far-fetched an idea. But of course, the fact that there were together would probably act as strong deterrent.

Gradually he decreased his pace enough that Azel could catch up with him. "So," the thief began. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you feel about all this."

The knight glanced over to him and the thief could see, even in the gloom, that his face was set in a frown. "As a matter of fact, I _do_ mind your asking. But I supposed that being raised in a society with little regard to ranks and decorum would tend to make one more open." The Crimson Rider turned away.

Milanor shrugged. "You, uh, you don't feel bad about the fact that we're going to end up fighting your countrymen again?"

The next time Azel looked to him, the frown had deepened. "If you're worried that I'm going to defect and start fighting against Fantasinia again, you need only say so. But no, for your information, I am _not_. When I fought against Yggdra in the Great War it was under the belief and understanding that it was a winnable conflict, one that could secure a glorious future for our nation. Without strong leadership and with most of the country's best already dead, this revolt is destined to be crushed, though God knows how long that would take. The best chance I – _we_ – have of getting a relatively intact Bronquia out of this is to end this insurgency as soon as possible."

"…All right then. I can respect that."

And as the night wore on, the group continued their march through the night.

* * *

Several days later…

"**ROSWELL!**" The shout echoed through the halls of the manor, reverberating with an effect that was obvious magical for the added emphasis. The lord of the Black Rose manor glanced up from his desk where he had been quietly filling out several forms (paperwork really did tend to pile up in your absence) and debated vacating the premises very quickly against remaining where he was.

A moot point in any case – Rosary flung open the double doors to his study, murder in her eyes. Rubbing his forehead tiredly, the mage turned back. "Yes, Rosary?"

"My books! How _dare_ you order your servants to ransack my library? Have you no respect _at all_ for the property of others? I have the complete collection of all the written works of Valois, for crying out loud! And you just… you piled them all up like they were some shopworn novels or something!" At this juncture she was forced to break off to catch her breath, although it was obvious she wasn't calming down much.

Roswell sighed. "Rosary. Perhaps it had escaped your notice, but the White Rose Manor is a smouldering ruin, which would be why I'm currently letting you stay in my own one. I had the majority of the books hauled out here before the entire thing collapsed on itself, because I deemed that would be the things you wanted preserved the most.. And for your information, I, too, have my own collection of tomes which have unfortunately left my bookshelves rather full. Until I finish adding a couple of new wings to the place, that's really the best I can do." He then proceeded to lean back in his chair, gracing her with a smile he knew from experience would annoy her _immensely_.

One of Rosary's eyebrows twitched slightly as she forced a semblance of control back onto her features. Roswell knew his logic was sound enough that she couldn't really refute it, but he likewise knew it wouldn't do wonders for her mood, so…

"In fact," he continued. "I _have_ detailed some of the rarer and more precious tomes to be properly stored away safely, including your much valued collection of Valois' works. Is that enough for you, cousin?"

She threw her hands up into the air and stalked out of the room. A moment later, a servant entered, clutching a envelope in his hand.

"Master Roswell, sir, I believe you should read this."

"Oh? Correspondence from Lady Yggdra, is it?" Roswell mused as he accepted the letter. "Probably an update on the Bronquian revolt situation. With any luck she'll have gotten most of the troops on the move."

There was a pause as Roswell quickly scanned through the letter.

He then proceeded to swear in a manner most unbefitting for a noble.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading, please review!


	13. Setting the Board

The Ties That Bind

* * *

So based on what happens in the PSP port of Yggdra Union my nice and tidy storyline has been COMPLETELY AND IRREEDEMABLY SCREWED OVER THANKS A LOT DEPT. HEAVEN YOU'RE REAL SWELL FOR MAKING NEW PLOT FOR YOUR OLD PORTS!

Okay, okay, calm down, deep breaths, deeeeep breaths…

Right, where were we? Oh, right, plots being screwed over. I hate deviating from canon in any piece of fanwork, but it looks like I'm going to have to BECAUSE DEPT. HEAVEN WAS ALL HEY WOULDN'T IT BE FUNNY IF WE MADE HEAVEN EVIL AND A BUNCH OF DICKS AND YGGDRA DECIDED TO GO INVADE HEAVEN WHEN THERE WAS NO REASON FOR HER TO YOU STUPID HRRRUUUGH

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

She remembered back when sleep was supposed to be refreshing. Right now, it was just sustaining, recharging her barely enough to stagger to her feet and go through yet another day of planning a war she didn't want or need.

Durant had set off two days ago, leading the greater part of the Fantasinian forces off to put down the rebellion, with the assurance that he would keep casualties on both sides to the minimum. Not that she really expected the 'minimum' to be anything less than a bloodbath anyway, but every little bit helped.

Or so she kept telling herself, anyway.

As her maidservants helped her to get dressed, she heard a knock on the door.

"Just a moment, please." Being a monarch had it's share of advantages, one of them being that people tended to not want to bother you unless it was something really important, or something you would be happy to hear. Or a combination of the two.

Of course, given the situation…

She checked her appearance in the mirror. Passable. With a nod, her handmaidens stepped back and one of them reached over to open the door.

The messenger inclined his head in a show of respect. "Lady Yggdra, the lord and lady of Verlaine Hills desire an audience with you."

That brought Yggdra up short for a moment. Lord _and Lady_? But Rosary was-

Oh. Oh, right. When last she'd corresponded to Roswell he'd been talking about trying to bring Rosary back from the dead. Well, he _was_ a necromancer, although Yggdra never actually believed he could do it.

A corner of her mind wondered about the ramifications if what Roswell had done were to be known to the world at large. She could already imagine the Meriant Church kicking up a massive fuss over the subversion of the natural order of things – although the recent death of Pope Joachim and Sir Gordon had turned their attentions more or less completely inwards as they tried to find new leadership. Of course there'd be the hundreds of average people who'd start clamouring for _their_ own loved ones to be revived, not knowing and not caring about the limitations and costs involved… Other necromancers attempting to duplicate the spell…

All in all, a humongous mess. Roswell was a noble, he knew the political game as well as anyone – and if he felt that the fallout from his actions could be justified... Yggdra sighed. There were more pressing concerns for the moment.

As she stepped into the meeting room, she found a smile to put on her face. Roswell was seated in wingback chair, an unusually thick tome (even for him) floating open in midair. Even as she watched, a page turned seemingly by itself and the Necromancer continued reading.

Rosary, by contrast, was sipping from a cup of tea, her lidded eyes and expression of overall contentment a good indication of her opinion of the beverage. The look on her face brought Yggdra up short for a moment – almost all of her memories involving the witch had had her face contorted in rage, pain, or both.

As she was about to clear her throat, Rosary looked up and noticed Yggdra's presence. Gathering her robes, she stood and curtsied. Distracted by the sudden movement, Roswell hastily got to his feet and executed a somewhat sloppy bow.

"Please, desist. We're friends here." Well, she was friends with _Roswell_, at any rate, and while she was perfectly willing to let bygones be bygones, she wasn't sure what Rosary thought of the whole affair. On that note, she let slip an uncertain glance in the witch's direction.

Perhaps Rosary had caught the, or she had simply anticipated Yggdra's unease at the meeting, for she sighed and shook her head. "Lady Yggdra. I'm glad to have this chance to meet you after… the unfortunate incidents concerning the ankhs have blown over."

"Likewise." Yggdra smiled pleasantly. There was still an undercurrent of strained politeness but at least no one was going to hold any overt grudges.

"Ah, I almost forgot. You're Queen now, are you not? Perhaps I should be referring to you as 'Your Highness', then?"

"Wha – um, no, thanks. That's fine. I… look, if you could, please just call me Yggdra."

"Very well, La – I mean, Yggdra." Rosary nodded.

"On to business, then?" Roswell questioned as he poured himself a cup of tea. "Concerning the letter you sent us two days hence… We came as soon as possible."

Yggdra nodded and smoothed her robes. "Right. I couldn't go into too much detail then, but here's what I need…"

* * *

"Right, half a day more and we'll have finally reached the 5th." Milanor sighed as he broke off a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth. "About time, too."

"Yeah, just walking out here's boring." Flunky shook his head. "They keep talking about how they're so many bandits operating in the region, but we haven't run into anyone here."

"It's not like they're gonna attack us when we've got knights taking point and tough guys like us hanging around." The Silver Wolf grinned.

His subordinate chuckled. "Guess you're right, boss."

Just then, Azel walked by, face rearranged into a frown. As he passed within earshot, Milanor hailed him.

"Hey, sir knight. Fancy like sitting down for a bite?"

The Crimson Rider glanced up and shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but… I'm really not hungry."

The two of them sat there, watching him walk away for several seconds. Flunky broke the silence with a shrug. "Something's troubling him."

"Y'think?" Despite the sarcasm, Milanor's brow furrowed as well. He didn't know the stoic knight well, true, but even in their short interaction together, he knew one of several things that served to get a rise out of him.

On that note, he glanced over to where Elena was standing and playing lookout.

"…" Shaking his head, he stuffed the last of the bread into his mouth and stood up. As much as he wondered sometimes, this really was an affair best left up to the parties directly involved, and no one else.

* * *

Make hay while the sun shines. It was a good saying, with a fair bit of common sense behind it.

Not that it was directly applicable to her current situation, what with the fact that she didn't exactly have any hay on hand, but close enough, really. Humming an indistinct tune to herself, Mistel continued the harvest.

She was done quickly – as usual. Having only two mouths to feed in her homestead – along with whatever else she sold off to nearby villages on the rare occasions they did venture out – meant a small plot of land for crops was usually more than enough.

"Grandfather!" She called out as she stepped into the house. "Where are you, grandfather?"

Hm. Empty. He was probably taking a bath at the stream, then. Well, no time to waste then – Grandfather tended to get cranky whenever his meal wasn't ready by the time it came back.

All ample preparation for the day she could finally become a housewife, of course. She had the skills down pat, all that was left was for-

There was a knock on the front door. A moment later, it repeated itself. _Who could that be?_ She rarely made trips to the nearby mountain villages as it was, and she never gave away any specifics of her location. In fact, about the only people who had ever stumbled upon her hiding place were…

As she swung open the front door, she came face to face with a cloaked messenger. At her questioning gaze, he held up a sealed piece of parchment.

"Queen Yggdra of Fantasinia has sent for you – she requests that you aid her in the suppression of the ongoing Bronquian insurrection. Should you accept, you are to meet with Sir Durant at the stated location three days from now. Naturally we will be paying you for your services in whatever manner you desire. Any other pertinent information should be on the letter itself."

Well! Talk about a bolt out of the blue. Mistel wasn't sure she should refuse out of hand, but leaving her grandfather behind just like that while she went gallivanting across the continent. Hesitantly, she reached out to take the letter.

"Say I need some time to decide…"

"I will be able to remain here until first light tomorrow morning, whereupon I shall set out to inform Sir Durant on the condition. I would like to have your answer by then."

"Hrmph. No need – she can give her answer now." As Bly wandered into hearing range, he shook his head and waved his walking stick at the messenger. "Yggdra… Mistel helped her this one time and suddenly she thinks we're her vassals now, at her beck and call."

The man blinked and shook his head. "Certainly not. This is a request from the Queen – you are free to accept or refuse it as you wish, with no undue repercussions."

"Sure, son. Sure. That's not the first time I've heard that line." As he stepped past Mistel, he sighed and shook his head. "So, Mistel, what'll it be?"

"Huh? I-"

"At the end of the day, they asked for you, not me. Whether or not you accept is entirely up to you. I want you to decide free of any obligations you might feel on my part."

"Oh. Well, in that case…" She looked down at the letter. "I think… that… I'll go. Yggdra's probably been under a lot of stress lately – she needs all the help she can get."

As she looked up into the face of her grandfather, she thought she caught the glimpse of a smile. "All right then, off you go – but first, you can finish making the evening meal! You wouldn't care to join us, would you, Mr. Nameless Messeger?"

"Hm? I have my own rations…"

"Nonsense! It's almost dinnertime and I am not going to turn away someone when there's room in the house and food on the table. Come on Mistel, get with the cooking – I'll get the plates."

Pausing for a moment to flash an apologetic smile to the befuddled messenger, Mistel hurried back into the house.

* * *

"Finally." Elena sighed as the fort housing the 5th came into view. "It feels like we've been travelling forever."

"I though you would've been used to long journeys by now."

"Most of the time there was stuff to do on those journeys. There were usually a lot more people around, Master Zilva was always sending me off on side-errands that ended up improving my skills one way or another, and that's when she wasn't working me to the bone with straight up training…"

Azel let a thin smile pass his lips. "Whereas now we've just been doing a lot of walking."

"More or less, yeah. Especially since Castle Karona." Elena sighed and dropped her shoulders. "It's not going to get any easier, though, is it?"

"I should think not. Once we've settled in we're going to need to start snooping for any subversive elements. Something that you're rather good at, if my memory doesn't fail me."

"Yeah… I guess."

Without any further words, Azel turned and continued on, the rest of Milanor and his gang trailing behind.

The assassin sighed and ran a hand up the side of her face. Okay. Conversation with Azel. That was good, right? Then again, it had been bled dry of almost anything outside mission parameters, which Azel had already established he could talk relatively dispassionately about.

_I really should stop worrying about such things._ She thought to herself as she folded her arms and picked up the pace. _First rule of a professional – when there's a job to be done, do it. Self-reflection can come later._ She smiled at the wisp of memory – how many times had Master Zilva drummed that into her head already?

With a nod, she let her hand travel down to her belt, and she clutched at the knife she had sheathed there.

She was ready.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


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